Hanako,
 
I don’t really know how to start this.  I guess ‘hi’ is as good a place to start as any…Hi.  So you’re twenty now, I hope you had a nice birthday…I guess I should explain who I am, before you start worrying you have a stalker or something. (Well, I’m sure you’re a beautiful girl and probably have a few anyway, but at least know that I’m not one.)
 
I’m sure that by now you know that Daiki and Airi aren’t your real parents.  They promised me they would tell you on your sixteenth birthday, not that they owed me anything.  I’ll never forget the look in Airi Ikezawa’s eyes when she saw you, only a few months old and yet you had a full head of purple hair, almost a match to her own albeit a bit lighter.  Her husband Daiki stood back and watched as his wife held you in her arms with his face composed, but I could see from the look in his eyes that he was as excited as she was.
 
I never asked them why they couldn’t have children of their own, it’s hardly my business is it?  If it was my business once then I gave that up the day I picked up a bottle again.  Your mother falling pregnant…your biological mother that is, not Airi, was the reason I gave up alcohol.  I’d been in and out of trouble my whole life, and the only way I had to forget that was drink, but then when the woman I loved became pregnant I knew I had to give it up.  And I did, stayed sober for the last 4 months of her pregnancy.  It never goes away you know, the itch for alcohol.  It’s always there gnawing at the back of your mind, whispering seductively, ‘one drink won’t hurt, just a little sip’…ah, but I’m rambling.
 
I don’t know if your parents (I’ll refer to them as they are, I gave up any right to that claim long ago) will have told you what happened to your mother.  After giving birth to you…she died.
 
I don’t blame you for that now, I didn’t back then, and I won’t in twenty years time.  She had a weak heart that could have given in at any time, it just so happened to be that situation that pushed her past the limit.  They say things like that go undiagnosed all the time and that she could just have easily collapsed in the middle of a jog.  The most important thing is that she managed to hold you in her arms and see your face, one time, one short time…
 
It broke me.  At the time when I should have been at my best, at my strongest, for my new-born daughter and my wife’s family, I couldn’t be.  I don’t want to make excuses for what I did, but the whispers in my head were seductive, and I gave in.  I’m weak.  I left you at the hospital while I went and had my first drink in months.  I felt like scum.
 
Shortly after that you were put up for adoption.  I didn’t even have the strength to fight it, to fight for you, my daughter who was born only months beforehand.  I watched them take you from my arms and could only worry about where my next drink was coming from.  I’m not proud of it, the way I was.  Daiki and Airi didn’t have to let me see you, either, while the process was happening, but they did.  The visit was supervised and subject to me passing a breathalyzer test, and to be honest I don’t know how I even managed it, but I did.  I got the chance to say goodbye to you, and to ask Daiki and Airi some favours, although as I said, they owed me nothing.  It was their suggestion that when you turned sixteen they would tell you that they weren’t your real parents, but they said they wouldn’t mention the state I was in when they saw me or what happened to your mother.
 
That’s why I’ve written this letter, to be delivered to you shortly after your twentieth birthday. I hope it reaches you okay, and I hope that you can find it somewhere in your heart to forgive me, although I don’t deserve it.  Daiki and Airi are good people, and I’m sure they’ve been fantastic parents to you all these years, so you don’t need me.   I’ll never forget the way you looked when you were born, and I wish I could see you now as a grown woman, but I can’t do that.  I don’t know what state I’ll be in when you read this, probably still a hopeless drunk.
 
I’m just glad that I got to say all of this to you, and when you next see them, tell your parents, the ones who raised you, that I say thank you.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart, for giving my daughter the chance in life she would never have had with me.
 
I hope that your life is everything you could ever want it to be, and that you’re happy with your family.  Sorry I wasn’t there for you, but it’s for the best.
 
 
All the love in the world,
 
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The paper cuts off just above the name.  The hand holding it shakes uncontrollably, tears falling onto the paper and smudging the two decade old ink, making small black swirls over the page.  The hand’s grip loosens, the paper fluttering slowly to the floor, rocking back and forth through the air.