Hey Mom,
We haven't seen each other in a couple of months, and I feel guilty about that more than I let on. I'm not sure if I do too good a job of hiding that guilt –I want you to think I'm having a wild time, a successful time, so I make sure to have stories upon adventures when we find time for a phone call. But I wanted to tell you something. Since we don't live together anymore and I'm living a life that is closer to adulthood than its ever been before, I'm beginning to realize all the things that I do that you never did.
The days after seemingly infinite hours of classes and of work that I stumble, bleary-eyed, into my apartment and just fall asleep as soon as the door is shut, you never did. After your workday, you picked me up from school or you prepared me an afternoon snack or you cleaned up the kitchen after an eat-and-run breakfast. You had an energy – forced or not I don’t know – and you made sure that you were up before me and that I was in bed before you.
“The Inquisitions” as I dubbed them, where I convinced myself that you were the only mother to ask, “Where, when, with whom?” – yes, I villainized you. I thought you were too strict, too intrusive. I translated your easily - answerable questions as “Blood type, license plate, Social?” But now I find myself mentally swearing, kicking myself because “If only I had highlighted the exact deadline, researched the exact salary, asked about the exact people.”
The times when my tongue gets the better of me and I result to cussing, you never did. You tensed your jaw and you clenched your teeth and you took deeeep breaths, but you never swore. I’m sure Dad heard his fair share of complaints about me, but, being honest, I had the great ability to be a nightmare. And you never raised your voice without reason. Everything was a lesson, whether it be through a joke or through “GET DOWNSTAIRS. I AM COUNTING TO THREE – THAT WAS THREE – TWO ...” It took time to see, but every whisper, every yell was conducive and constructive.
The scrimping and the saving I do in order to just wash my college laundry? You came home and surprised me with “somethings-for-you,” just because you were out and they reminded you of me. I’m realizing now that you spent your hard-earned money on clothing and on toys that I would outgrow in a year or two.
The moments I critique or find myself pre-emptively judging, you didn’t. You taught me to pass fluid judgments because you can never know the full story of anything really. And if I am presented the opportunity to learn, take it. You taught me to be curious.
The randomness in which I have bad times, bad moments or bad days, and the world is much bigger than usual and I want to break down and cry, you must have felt all that too, but I never knew. You kept a brave poise, your super-hero composure. But now, Mom, I just want to say that it’s OK to cry in front of me now; I want to share what you carry. Yes, seeing a parental figure’s tears tugs at any child’s heart initially, however I want to begin to support you as you have supported me.
The answers that you give during all the times that I look to you for support, I am always thankful when I put down the phone, thinking, “What would I have done if she hadn’t answered?” And the times when I realize that your mother wasn’t able to be there for all the times you needed her guidance and you were left to look toward the sky, I scroll through all the questions that only become more difficult and more in-depth as the years progress, and I just take a moment. You wow me, and all I can think of is that she did it. And look at all that she has accomplished.
And all the times when I blamed you, hated you, walked away from you? All those times, you never blamed me back, hated me back; and you stayed where you were, waiting patiently for me to come back.
And Mom? I hope I have come back in a way that has you proud. In a way that has made you as proud to call me your child as I am just as proud to point, miles and months away, to a picture and say, “This – she – is my mother.”
