My dear brilliant daughter I hope that you are hiding your intelligence, your creativity, your natural ability with numbers and your sense of direction. I hope that you are saving them under a clever veil of government sanction ditziness so that they not be culled by a society that has no place for their vessel, lovely you. You are not a Regular. You are not an Elite. You are my Magnolia. Never mind if you've been renamed Long Mauve Truck, and are the assistant to the vice chancellor of knitting beer coozies - you are the shining flower of my genes and your father's genes (I will explain the difference between God and Biology in subsequent letters), Hopefully you are, by the age of 12 or so when you find this, capable of hiding your talents so that you are not imprisoned, or altered, and understand that you are not defined by being "one or the other." Act Regular. Be extraordinary.
and reuse this as something. It was a tree.
your mother
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