Dear Mom,
In a few very short days I'll be heading back to college. All my belongings will once again be packed up, except for some stray socks, and that sweatshirt I never wear but can't seem to get rid of. We'll hug and I'll drive away in my car, and after I'm gone you'll go stand in my doorway; now a shell of the room it was just yesterday. And maybe this summer I was a shell of who I used to be, the girl I was before I went away to school, before I lived in a place other than under your roof. Maybe this summer we didn't get along as well as we thought we would, maybe this summer I didn't save as much money as I said I would. Maybe I came home from school and had a hard time readjusting to living at home. Don't be angry, sad or hurt that I am so excited to go back to school. Don't take it personally, it's nothing against you; it's not you it's me.
School is the place where I found my truest friends, the people who know my truest self. They know what my goals are, they know who I want to be.They know how much of a struggle it is for me to get to an 8:15, and they know what I look like at 3 am on a weekend. They've seen my best, and my worst. They didn't know me at fifteen, or seven, but it doesn't matter. Some of my friends are pursuing the same career as me, and we have group chats about being #educationmajors, and they understand how confusing the ever changing educational standards can be to a newbie. You were once the person I lived with, woke up to every morning and said goodnight to before bed. But then again, neither of us are morning people, so our exchanges were usually just unintelligible grunts, and we didn't sleep in the same room at night. My roommates now get ready in the morning and trudge to dunks with me before class, and we sleep in the same room together at night, sometimes even the same bed.
I'm not saying I don't miss the comforts of home, because believe me, I do. When I'm sick I still want your hugs and chicken soup. When I feel like giving up, I still need to hear your voice telling me it's going to be okay. When something good happens, you're still the first person I want to tell. I miss being able to walk up a flight of stairs to say hi, I miss homemade chocolate chip cookies. However, I do enjoy being independent. Having my own space, living on my on schedule, I like that too. Sure, you're probably reading this and rolling your eyes thinking kid, you're not even close to being independent. Maybe you're right, I still depend on you for a lot, like financial support and health insurance, but I'm taking baby steps. I can cook, I can clean (though I may chose not to at times) I can braid my hair and I know how to check my oil. I know to be aware of my surroundings, I know to put all the refrigerated groceries together and balance a check book-see I do pay attention to all the little things you showed me.
I'm not you, in fact, in a lot of ways I'm quite different than you. I think this frustrates you sometimes, but I wish it didn't. Okay so maybe I'm not the daughter you dreamed of when I was wrapped up in pink blankets, or maybe I'm not the woman you envisioned I'd become. Maybe that is hard for you to understand. But it is also hard for me when you can't seem to look past your own judgements or expectations and see me, for me. I am smart, I am motivated, I am a leader not a follower. I make mistakes, hell I make lots of mistakes. I do things you don't or didn't do, I like things you dislike. Please understand I am not a naive little girl, no matter how hard you want to believe I still am. Please do not mistake my carefree-ness for carelessness. Please do not dismiss my bad days for effortlessness or weakness.I am strong. I am hard working. I looked up to you, after all.
As I settle back into school, I will appreciate your texts, calls and care packages more than you know. There will be times when they are the highlight of my day. I will eagerly come home for a home cooked meal and time to spend with you. I can't wait for you to come visit so I can show you my apartment, my friends, my world. So mom, I guess what I'm trying to tell you is, is that you did a good job with me. You're a great mom and you taught me how to be a good person. Your job is not done, it won't ever be ha ha ha... but you can let me fly a little. There's a chance I'll break a wing in the process, but I'll figure it out and I will soar. And I'll always come back to the nest.
Love Always,
Your Not So Little Birdie
