I love my mom, but she lies to me.
She says, “I’m fine,” when I know she isn’t. Tears could be streaming down her face and stress could be a visible cloud surrounding her, and she won’t let her worries worry me. Sometimes I have to hold her, and remind her how important she is to me for her to smile in those times. If you have been there, you know that that smile is one of the most beautiful things to see. So, mom if you’re reading this you need to know that you don’t have to be “fine” all the time. You’re human; you are allowed to cry, be stressed and even throw a tantrum time to time.
She says, “I’m not tired,” when her days begin before the sun’s. While the rest of the house is sleeping, she finishes her “selfish” jobs like showering, exercising and getting ready so she doesn’t waste anyone else’s time. As soon as my dad wakes up, he has coffee waiting for him, then while he irons his clothes, showers and gets ready for work my mom puts together breakfast and lunch for him and my brother. After they leave for work and school, she leaves for work. She’s usually the last person to go to bed too, and before she gets into bed herself she always checks on everyone. So mom, it’s okay for you to be tired and want to take a break. We all know how much you do, and we know that any other person would need twice amount of sleep you get to get through everything you do.
She says, “You pick!” when she wants to choose what to eat for dinner or which movie to see. She shows her selflessness in the simplest way when she gives you the last piece of food or when she sits through something she doesn’t like because you do. Mom, it’s okay to make the choice sometimes, because I promise you, we will listen and follow along.
Mom, I love you, but you need to stop lying to me. Just like the way you know I’m upset or I’m lying, I can tell with you too. I know you lie to me out of love, and thank you for protecting me from worries, helping me with my homework late at night even when you were tired and letting me have the last slice of pizza.
Maybe one day when I have a child of my own, I will lie to her too. I will lie to her when she asks me how I’m doing or if I can drop her off at the mall, and in that moment when I’m sad or tired, I will remember you. I’ll remember how you lied to me, and I will lie to her too.