I had a great childhood. I was born into a loving family, I had a roof over my head and food on the table, and most importantly, I was happy. If you asked me why, there would be no hesitation in giving credit to my parents.

They've always wanted the best for my sister and I. Ever since we were young, my mother would tell us that we could do anything we set our minds to. They always emphasized that they would be there for us, no matter what.

As of late, there's been one thing that catches my attention now when it slipped by as a child: the little sacrifices my parents have made for us. I'm not talking about getting a second job to support the family (which my mom did) or continuing to work at a not-so-preferred one to also support us (which my dad did), but rather the small acts of kindness they would show just to remind us we were loved.

My father is notorious for bringing the family treats or picking out a small gift for each of us "just because." When my mother and sister went to Washington D.C. for a school trip, my dad cheered me up by taking me out to ice cream, cooking some of my favorite dinners, going out for walks/bicycle rides with my grandma, and more. Most recently, I was admiring a cool Halloween decoration he had found while grocery shopping, and he offered it to me that same day. I politely declined because I wanted him to have what he bought for himself, but it really got me thinking about all the nice things he's done for me as I've grown up.

When I come home for the weekends from school, I don't usually escape the house without my mom sending me leftovers to take back (she gave me a literal bucket the other week) and my dad giving me a cool gadget like a pull cart for my groceries up Eugene's merciless hills or a small cord holder that can be stuck on a wall for added convenience.

My mother has also been known for buying us trinkets my sister and I were eyeing, but sometimes I have to fight to pay for my own groceries. As I navigate adult life, I probably call my mom at least two to three times per week about a mini-crisis, what I ate for dinner, or just to chat. She's always patient with me and my irrational fears, she sends me back to the apartment with wooden spoons, a reusable Keurig cup, and anything else I might need, and she let me take up all the space in the kitchen window with my insane amount of plants. Even when she tries to convince me to adopt a cat I can't afford, I know she is just looking out for my mental health and overall happiness.

Since I know you're reading this, I want to say thank you to Mom for talking with me on the phone in her post-work relaxing time so I don't have to walk alone at night, watching Buzzfeed Unsolved with me ("It's my bridge now, Goat Man"), and making my awkwardly high bed for me when I moved into my apartment because she knows just how I like it. I want to say thank you to Dad for sending me funny pictures on Pinterest, installing my printer, hanging the apartment cleaning supplies in a clever configuration, and offering silent comfort in my worst moments because there's nothing quite like a sympathetic Dad hug. This article would be way over the word limit if I listed everything you two have done for me, but I want you to know that I love and miss you with all my heart and you mean the absolute world to me.

Thank you for being my parents.

Much love, Abby.