Chapter 22 - DANIEL’S LETTERS TO NORA
While incarcerated, Daniel wrote to Nora through a court-approved archive.
I could screen.
So could a child therapist later.
The first letters contained too much apology to me.
I returned them through counsel.
“Write to your daughter, not through her.”
He adjusted.
Dear Nora,
Today I learned how terrible the prison oatmeal is.
Better.
He described books.
Weather.
Birds outside a narrow window.
No money.
No trust.
No “your mother keeps you from me.”
That restraint mattered.
At six, Nora received one short letter.
She dictated a reply:
I have a purple bike. Do you have a bike?
Daniel wrote:
No. Walk everywhere.
Nora said:
“That’s sad.”
Children create proportions adults forget.
At eight, supervised in-person visits began after Daniel’s release and extensive evaluation.
I opposed initially.
Court approved.
The first lasted one hour.
Nora came home and said:
“He’s taller than pictures.”
“What else?”
“He cries weird.”
“That seems genetic.”
May you like
She laughed.
Relationship, if any, would be hers.
