Dear Mother:
Although it is difficult for me to imagine you as a messy
haired twenty-something-year-old listening to Nirvana, it recently occurred to
me that, before my existence, you had your own rockin’ life filled with
studying and partying and embracing your days as an adult. Then you decided to
have me, without knowing what I would turn out as- if I’d be a boy or a girl? (Both have their highs and lows). A
dunce or a genius? (I’m somewhere in between the two, so I hope I didn’t
disappoint you). I guess parenting is a tricky gamble and is arguably one of
the hardest things to do in life. But I’m really grateful that you didn’t give
up on me, even when I was doing annoying things, like refusing to eat my
potatoes or drawing on the walls in marker.
In my preteen years, I’d get mad at
you for not letting me use the computer or go out past nine because I thought
you wanted to rob me of my freedom; in reality you were just disciplining me
into becoming the well rounded person that I am today. I am sorry for all my
poorly justified tantrums, and if I could go back in time I’d probably smack
myself on the head for being angry about so many petty things.
You’ve always
been there for me, and for that I applaud you. You soothed my tears when I was
going through a breakup and you invited me for ice cream during the moments
that I needed it most. Even though I’ve known you for nineteen years, I still
feel like there’s a lot I don’t know about you, and I want to change that. I am
thrilled that you are my best friend and that I can rely on you for almost anything.
I thank you for devoting so much time, energy, and patience in raising this
flamboyant daughter of yours. There is no recipe or guideline to being a good
parent, so I daresay you did a pretty good job. Now that I’m an adult, I can
appreciate all you’ve done for me, and everything that you still are doing for
me. I’m not really sure how you manage it all, but I guess that’s the superhuman
strength you possess: being a super mother.
Love,
Your Daughter
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