I woke up at 5:00 this morning and couldn't get back to sleep. It's still dark outside, but cold and windy, not like that day 23 years ago today when it was so unseasonably warm and sunny that you could go to the store in shorts and a tee-shirt. If only it had been cold that day, so cold that all you wanted to do was stay in the house and keep warm....
The day after you were kidnapped, it started raining -- just a sprinkle at first, but it turned into lasting downpours in the days to come. I thought the angels were weeping for you, my baby girl. I just hoped that their tears didn't fall on you, and drown you in despair.
Where are you? Oh where are you? Michaela, I told you that if ever you were alone or scared or sad and I wasn't there, all you had to do was touch your heart and you'd find me there. I don't know if that frail promise helped you, in circumstances beyond what I'd ever imagined. But I'm still there. And you are still here, in my heart, every single day of my life.
I love you, Michaela, for always and forever. Please, please come home.