Dear Journal,

My emotions were a bit all over the place today, Journal, so I thought I write in you. You don't know how relaxing writing in you is, as this is one of places I can share my true thoughts and feelings.

I woke up with an ache in my chest, and I thought "oh no, perhaps I'm getting sick." But then I realized that wasn't it. I have these days where I miss Mother terribly, as if her disappearance was yesterday. I took some deep breaths curled into a small ball. I wanted to cry but the tears wouldn't come. The feeling was awful and all I wanted was a release. Finally, I realized I would feel better if I got up and did something.

Father has been granted a little more freedom lately, mostly going to the library or the Dupain-Cheng's. As I scrubbed my head with shampoo, I realized Marinette's mother's painting class was today, being Saturday. Toweling off quickly and dressing, I ran downstairs to see if I could go.

"A painting class?" Father looks stern as I stand before him, fiddling with my ring. "Very well. Be back this afternoon." I thank Father then run out the door.

I'm nervous and excited at the same time. When I get to the building, I change into Cat Noir and walk in, my hands are sweating even through my leather gloves. People sit and chat and Sabine walks over to me, as I hesitate in the doorway. "Well, this is a pleasant surprise. Did you come to paint with us today?" "Yes, only, I'm not that good." "Don't worry, just do your best," she smiles at me. I wish Father were more like this. "Doing your best" is frowned upon in his book.

At first, we don't even do any painting, instead we look at pictures of a place in China, where ancient buildings glow in the afternoon sunshine. Paris is beautiful, but it would nice to travel the globe.

After the video, Sabine encourages us to draw what we've seen, but to use our imaginations. My favorite slide was the wooden bridge, the vibrant red colors popping against the blue water running underneath.

I start to draw and lose myself into the picture. At one point, I get stuck as I need help drawing a curve and I stop. I know I raise my hand for help, but my tongue feels frozen in my mouth.

"Just relax and breathe, dear," Sabine says, calmly. She takes on my hands and starts to guide my pencil. I first I jerk away from her touch as I'm not use to physical touch. "I'm sorry," I meow softly. Sabine smiles, and she tries again, and I make a perfect curve. I stare at her in awe.

After the lesson, I help her clean up. "Oh, you have better things to do with your weekend." "Actually, would you have time for a cup of tea or something?" "I knew something was on your mind. Let's go."

I love this little tea shop across the street from her studio, and its quiet and relaxing. "I miss Mother," I tell her as we sit down with fruit smoothies and scones. "Is that why you came to paint today?" "You remind me of her." "I'm honored. Your mother was a special lady." I grasp her small hand across the table.

"How would you know my mother? Not even Ladybug knows my identity." "I have a way of knowing, but I would never spill your secret. My daughter would read her articles over and over until the paper was all crinkly." I smile at that, imaging Marinette reading my father's magazine. Mother did sometimes write articles before she got sick. "Cat, if you ever feel lonely, know that Tom and I are always here for you. We love you we love Marinette. You have a kind and gentle heart. Whoever gave you your ring knew what they were doing." I nod.

We chat some more, then I look at my watch. "I should be getting home, but thank you for the lesson and the visit. Give Marinette my love will you?" Sabine nods.

"They say black cats are bad luck,

but I don't think that's true.

Soft, warm, and purring,

curled upon the Princess's lap,

her only friend. "

When I get home, I take a short nap, dreaming of Mother. The mist is white and thick, and I struggle to keep up. "Mother, why won't you wait for me?" I call, but the mist muffles my voice. "You have someone else to be your mother, Adrien." Anger sparks within me. "No one can replace you. I won't let them."

Mother walks towards me in the fog, and I look upon her face. "No one's replacing me, love. There's just someone different now." "Mama Cheng." "Yes."

Mother is soft and warm, but now far away. Mama Cheng is strong and confident. I love both of them, just in different ways. "I love you, Adrien," Mother touches her hand to my cheek, and I feel cold, as her hands are mist. When I wake, my face and pillow are wet. Was I crying?

Yet, isn't that what I wanted this morning, Dear Journal? To release the ache of sadness? It feels good to cry.

After dinner, I nibble at a rare cookie I'm allowed to have (chocolate chip and a glass of milk). I flip through the photos of Mother, smiling at the memories.

In the living room at Marinette's there's a bookshelf with their family photo on it. I remember seeing the photo for the first time and smiling. Thinking one day I could be a part of a family, not knowing it'd be Marinette's.

I go there as often as I can, and its home and comforting. Wrapping my soft blanket around me as I continue to stare at the pictures, there may soon be a time where I have a new family photo album.

Adrien Agreste

-Cat Noir