Dear Mom,
I wish there could be more words to describe how much you mean to me. Everything I am has been influenced by you. You were the one who sewed my first tutu, the one who handed me my fist camera, and most importantly never disbelieved in my ability. I know it may sound terribly cliché to state how much a mother can influence her child and how a mother can always support her child, but it is true. Even in my wildest ideas you never once just stood by to simply watch. Sometimes you encouraged me while other times you just flat out said how “bazaar” they are. You never sugar coated anything in order to make the world seem like a brighter place, and I praise you for that. I was able to grow up and see the world for what it is, rather than what should seem. I mean this idea has some mild consequences, I suppose. I was raised with the knowledge of the difference between homemade goods and boxed goods, which was problematic at a young age when everyone brought cupcakes into class to celebrate his or her birthday. I was raised to speak my own opinions, which has gotten me in a pickle certain times. Especially when I possibly scoffed and opted out of taking a piece of “homemade” ice cream cake, even though it was clearly just some Edy’s stacked together at a family event. I was never raised to conform to “girly” ways and was usually faced in the opposite direction. Let’s face it, I probably wore camouflage way before my first dress. I am extremely proud to say that I was surrounded by a group of strong women who never wasted time to sit around for someone else to do the work. I never realized sexism existed until I got older and I have to thank you for that. I was taught that everyone was equal. You have been the first to support me, the first to criticize me, and the first to praise me. When I was dancing you were there to tell me to point my toes, you were there sitting uncomfortably in your seat praying I landed the turning combination on stage, and you were there to put ice on my knees when I was hurt. I would have never wanted it to be any different.
Now, I am in college and abroad. I know you have gotten questioned as to why you would let me study Art History as if I wouldn’t be able to find a job. Or how could you possibly let me study abroad now in my life in France. You always knew that a person should pick a career path they loved rather than what would allow him or her to earn the most money. Even through the countless jokes about columns and modern art, you never stated that I would be ridiculous to study a subject that may never make me the next Bill Gates. When asked how could you possibly let me study abroad, you simply replied, how could you not let me study abroad. As if you never had a major role in the decision in the first place. I mean in my humble opinion; I would look kinda pathetic as an ARTH graduate trying to find a job without a study abroad experience. You never openly forced your opinions on me expecting me to follow the same path. I do not think you would expect me to study anything else but Art History or study abroad at a time it may not be considered the safest in history. If anyone truly knew me, I think it would be awfully difficult to assume I could do anything differently.
Many young girls say they want to be just like their mom when they grow up. I am not sure I would necessarily agree and I believe you wouldn’t want me to be just like you. You want me to branch out and experience things you never have. There is not a problem if I don’t 100% agree with you all the time because I am my own person and hopefully the person you would have ever wanted me to be. I cannot say I am finished, as in I am not done defining myself, but I think I am almost there. I would never have made it to this point in my life without you. I love you with all my heart. Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. ELM.
Love,
Erica