What Mothers Do For Us

What Mothers Do For Us

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A little girl. A little girl on a bench. A little girl sleeping on a bench with her head in her mother's lap, with the exhaustion of a six a.m. wakeup call weighing heavily on her tired eyes. She just barely fits, knees curled up to her chest, on the bench in the gray waiting room. With more color than the walls themselves, her face is tense, her jaw clenched. Every minute awake is slower than the next, but there's never enough time to sleep. Her mother places her hand on her head, covering her eyes from the light and the pain, and the little girl isn't so scared anymore.

A girl. A girl on a bench. A girl with her head propped up against the hard gray wall. Every now and then she changes what part of her face touches the wall, to relieve the other of the pain of supporting her whole head. She keeps her eyes closed, trying to avoid making eye contact with the other people in the room. She counts the seconds until she has to leave. When her head becomes tired of the wall, she leans over and puts her head on her own mother's shoulder, for her head hurts and her stomach cringes, and her mother puts her jacket around the girl. And the girl finally falls asleep until she is jolted awake by the sound of her own name.

A teenager. A teenager on a bench. A teenager sitting alone on the bench. Her feet hang off the side, respectfully, but her legs keep her in a comfortable enough position to drift in and out of sleep, only to wake up at the sound of the door opening and closing rather obnoxiously. Her mother sits in a chair right beside her. She snaps when her mother tries to interrupt her sleep and talk to her, but her mother stays there, patiently, through every second of the anger and deals with the sarcasm, because she knows it's not easy. It's not easy being there, in the room with no color, on the bench they sit on every time.

A woman. A woman on a bench. A women sitting uncomfortably upright. A woman trying to make interest out of what she sees in the plain room while she waits minute after minute. She hears a sharp voice call out her name, and stands up quickly. Everything is familiar and everything is routine for her. She'll soon forget that morning among all the ones just like it, but she'll never forget why she is there.

They are on the bench. The little girl wonders what is wrong with her, and struggles to adjust. The girl struggles to accept what she is only just starting to understand. The teenager wonders what she did to deserve this, angry that this is what her life is going to be like. The woman looks around the room and does not wonder anymore. She knows how lucky she is, because others have it worse. She accepts her reality. Every now and then she peeks through her eyelashes at the little girl sleeping on her mother's lap. She watches the girl asleep on her mother's shoulder. She watches the teenager snap at her mother. And the woman remembers her mother being there through all of it, and she is so thankful.



Cover Image Credit: http://girlwhothinks.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/mother-and-baby-holding-hands.jpg

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To The Dad Who Didn't Want Me, It's Mutual Now

Thank you for leaving me because I am happy.
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Thank you, for leaving me.

Thank you, for leaving me when I was little.

Thank you, for not putting me through the pain of watching you leave.

Thank you, for leaving me with the best mother a daughter could ask for.

I no longer resent you. I no longer feel anger towards you. I wondered for so long who I was. I thought that because I didn't know half of my blood that I was somehow missing something. I thought that who you were defined me. I was wrong. I am my own person. I am strong and capable and you have nothing to do with that. So thank you for leaving me.

In my most vulnerable of times, I struggled with the fact that you didn't want me. You could have watched me grow into the person that I have become, but you didn't. You had a choice to be in my life. I thought that the fact that my own father didn't want me spoke to my own worth. I was wrong. I am so worthy. I am deserving, and you have nothing to do with that. So thank you for leaving me.

You have missed so much. From my first dance to my first day of college, and you'll continue to miss everything. You won't see me graduate, you won't walk me down the aisle, and you won't get to see me follow my dreams. You'll never get that back, but I don't care anymore. What I have been through, and the struggles that I have faced have brought me to where I am today, and I can't complain. I go to a beautiful school, I have the best of friends, I have an amazing family, and that's all I really need.

Whoever you are, I hope you read this. I hope you understand that you have missed out on one of the best opportunities in your life. I could've been your daughter. I could have been your little girl. Now I am neither, nor will I ever be.

So thank you for leaving me because I am happy. I understand my self-worth, and I understand that you don't define me. You have made me stronger. You have helped make me who I am without even knowing it.

So, thank you for leaving me.

Cover Image Credit: Pexels

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Why I Appreciate My Parents So Much

This is for my two biggest supporters.

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One thing I've noticed, the older I've gotten, is how much I appreciate my parents.

We've become so close, it's almost funny to think at one point I looked at them so much differently. When I was younger, my parents were much more strict than they are now. They disciplined differently and didn't let me do certain things. The older I've gotten, the more freedom I've gotten, which is one big sigh of relief.

My parents are such great people. Throughout my whole life, I've always had friends of parents or people who know my parents tell me how great they both are. I'm so blessed to have been raised by them and to have gotten their characteristics.

My mom is so loving and generous, and she thinks of literally everyone else in her life before herself. She's smart and funny, and she is always there when I need someone to talk to. She's taught me how to be courteous, kind, funny (with her sense of humor), and most importantly, accepting towards others.

The older I get, the more I realize how similar I am to her. She's my favorite woman in the whole world. We understand each other.

My dad is a thoughtful, hilarious, wise, and helpful guy who has taught me so many lessons throughout the years. He always makes sure my finances are in order, even more than I do. He keeps me laughing with his funny stories and made-up songs that he sings. He always asks me how my day was every time I walk through the door. He is so adorable and thoughtful, and I'm so happy I got his wit and humor.

His smile lights up a room and I'm so happy I've been hearing his laugh and will continue to for the rest of my life.

Another great thing about my parents is that they've taught me what love looks like. They're so loving, kind, and patient towards each other. I've rarely ever seen them fight in my life. They still treat one another how they did when they first started dating. I have friends and know people whose parents aren't together, and I'm so lucky to say I can't imagine what that's like.

My parents complete each other; they are soulmates. I'm so lucky and appreciative that I get to have the honor of watching their love play out throughout their lives.

I'm so happy and thankful that these are the parents I ended up with. They're the best. I hope to be half of my parents when I become a parent myself.

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