This letter isn’t a thank you or an apology. I wrote this letter with the intention of sharing it with my parents, so they can see how much they truly mean to me. Growing up, I never spent much time at home and was always looking for ways to pick fights. An opportunity sat before me, I chose to take that opportunity to set it straight. If you were or are anything like me, know that it’s never too late to set things straight.

Dear Mom and Dad,

I’m not writing this letter because I’m upset with you, like I’ve done a hundred times over and over again throughout my childhood. There’s no need to hold on to words that didn’t offer any solutions to our fights; throw them away. Save this letter, because from this point on, this is the only letter that matters.

It’s an unusual feeling being a thousand miles away from you. You’ve always been there by my side — even when I didn’t want you to be there. I pushed you away. Somewhere between Barbie dolls and ballerina shoes, our relationship was shattered and abandoned. My inherited stubbornness and unbreakable determination to be independent swept the few pieces that remained to the wind before building a brick wall in its place.

The other night, I stayed up late wondering where everything went wrong and the sudden circumstances that suddenly brought us so close. I hate that it had to happen this way; that we had to wait so long to rebuild our kinship.

Being away at school this past year made me realize growing up is scary. I tell myself that I’m not ready to take on the world myself even though a mere six months ago I was ready to break all bonds and take it head-on alone.

Now, I sit in my dorm room calling to tell you I have a hang nail on my finger or that I ate a salad for dinner and how proud you should be of newly acquired eating habit. There is no true reason for my phone call, just a small glimmer of hope that your voices might fill the absence of a hug. Most days I wish I didn’t have to sit in a car for twelve hours and cross two state lines to receive that hug.

Dad, you are my loudest and proudest fan. You’ve cheered me on at every sporting event and clapped the loudest at every dance recital and musical. Dragging each other out in public, my actions may scream that I am embarrassed to be seen with you, but I’m genuinely proud to call you my dad (even through all the terrible dad jokes). No matter how bad our battles get, I will always be that little girl who curled up at your side as you read books to me every night before tucking me into bed.

Mom, our resemblance is not uncanny but slightly scary when the cashier at Sam’s Club wonders if we’re twins. There is no doubt I am your daughter. You’ve already given me the world, so I hated asking you for things. And even when the world was in my palms, you continued to give me more. Your snores push me over the edge sometimes, but that little girl who invaded your bed because she never liked to sleep alone is still here.

I’m sorry I’ve given you both premature grey hairs. I had no idea of the stress I was putting onto your shoulders by ignoring all those text messages you sent late at night wondering where I was or when I’d be coming home. All those teenage years of angst, slammed doors, and shortsighted arguments are behind us.

I just want you to know that I love you. Those three little words hold so much meaning, yet we never say them enough to one another. Not only is it good to say them because you never know which breath will be you last, but because the reassurance that nothing has changed is comforting.

This isn’t a goodbye, but rather a see you later. I will be home soon. Plus, I will more than likely talk to you tomorrow — and the day after that. Please be safe and know that I will be okay.

Love Always,

Your Daughter