Dear Mom,
I’m warning you: this letter is going to be gooey—and not gooey like warm Vermont maple syrup. It’s gonna’ be gooey like a refrigerated bottle of Aunt Jemima’s. That’s some serious goo.
But as sticky and sappy as this letter may be, I’m going to write it anyway.
I’d like to begin with a thank you. No, not a light hearted “thanks for the frozen yogurt, mom.” Not even a more serious “thanks for the college tuition, mom.” A real thank you. A thank you that extends beyond words, beyond anything I’m capable of expressive. You have dedicated yourself to me. Offerring me life was not enough. You spent nine months working to give me my first breath, and you’ve spent nineteen years offering me the world. You are my leading lady.
No, you haven’t always been perfect. To be honest, you’ve never been “perfect.” And I haven’t either. But even in our darkest moments- yes, those moments where even our obnoxious rainbow night-light seemed to vanish- you’ve done your absolute best. And that’s all I could ever ask for. We’ve watched each other struggle, sometimes separately and sometimes simultaneously. You loved me when I couldn’t love myself. You held me when I experienced my first heartbreak. You extended patience when I definitely didn’t deserve it. All in all, you have been the most incredible support system.
As I’ve grown up, I’ve realized that mothers are not invincible. They are not goddesses, immune to insecurity and emotional chaos. Don’t get me wrong, it is SO tempting to believe that you have supernatural “mom” powers. Powers that make you invincible. And trust me, you had me fooled for a while. But that wouldn’t be fair. After accepting that you’re apparently not Supermom in disguise, it made it easier to have patience with you.
You’re creative, authentic, intelligent- and crazy. But hey, aren’t we all? When I tell you that I’m grateful for you, I mean all of you. From the lovey-dovey moments to the I-want-to-punch-you-in-the-boob moments, I wouldn’t trade our memories for anything. I wouldn’t trade you for anything. Not even for Supermom. Now that’s love.
Learning to appreciate you unconditionally has been one of the most gratifying experiences. I wouldn’t be the woman I am today without you, and I’m pretty proud of the person I’m becoming- even though I can be a freaky hypochondriac crazy person.
So cheers to you, mom. Told you this letter would be Aunt Jemima gooey.