To my children, who will inevitably be mixed, half me, half him. Who I pre-named years before a man even came close to loving me… I love you, even though you do not exist yet, if you ever will exist. Even though I do not know what your faces look like, or how your voices sound. Will you take after your father (at least the person who I think will be your father)? With dark skin, a full nose, and wider eyes? His kind heart, stubborn resolve, and sarcastic humor? Will you get the best of him and the worst of me? My difficult skin, my blind eyes, my stubby fingers, my crooked teeth? Will I be a good mother in the future, if I even get the chance to be one?