You prevail. You get put on the frontline, all the time, and you always prevail. Ever since I could tell left from right I have seen you become stronger every year. Your strength gave me strength. As a family, and individuals, we have been through our trials and tribulations. Those of which that could have really shattered the walls we’ve built…but they made our walls more stronger for us to constantly climb up. Your guidance is impeccable. When we hit our lows and needed our mother the most, you have always been there. Your words cut like a knife, and that’s why the raw truth no longer hurts us. It’s you that taught us how to accept. You have always been unapologetically straight up with us, and that’s bona fide. On the behalf of 3: We thank you.
We thank you for your patience with us. We thank you for your support. We thank you for your love. It sounds simple only because I don’t even know how to put your perfect imperfections into words. I need time to prepare to explain the lengths you have gone to for us, it’s that deep. You’ve overlooked my mistakes, put my secrets in a locked box and threw away the key. I will admit that we have taken your kindness for weakness. You were just the mother we needed though. Our friend when we needed one and a mother even more. You see right through us, and behind your back we always wonder how the hell you do that. How? How do you always know when something is wrong, without even talking to us? Mom, I just want to let you know, we got it. We got it. At 28, 24, and 20 – we got it. Our decisions and judgment come straight from us. Although you worry, don’t worry, we got it. We’ll figure out and we’ll get it.
Whenever you hear a siren, you contact each of us. Yes, we’re okay. With you, we’ve always been okay. We certainly give you reasons to worry; you have rebels in your hands. But we got it. We got it because of you. As much as you’re tired of being worried, we are too. We’re growing up, Mom. We grow every day. I know as a mother you want to protect us for the rest of your life. There’s only so far your hand will reach, Mom. You did your part not letting me leave the front porch when I was younger, but now I’m leaving states and countries, and I need you not to worry. You know I got it. We’ve fought with you, screamed hate, and put you through hell. You grew tired of our apologies, no longer wanted to hear them. But I know you did. You continue to forgive.
You’re human, too. We sometimes forget that. You spoiled us with support when we were younger so sometimes we become impatient when you no longer drop what you’re doing to answer a pointless, irrelevant question of ours. We don’t call you only when we need you, we call you when we can. Growing up is a big game of catching up, we’re trying to find our speed without getting caught up. You know how fast it happens. I like to say and pick on you for favoring Justin, but I’m glad you do. He has always needed you, and you never gave up on him.
I admire your resilience. You bounce back with peace and power. Whenever I am stressed, crying, and all over the place, you calm me down with love and patience. Your energy sends sparks. You can sense a bad vibe with just a look in the face, a swing in the walk. This is why you’re powerful. You put yourself before others. You always have. But I notice it the most when you’re talking with someone, listening to their problems and never complaining about your own. The intentions you have are always good and true. Mistakes may happen, and you’re human for that. Your words always amaze me. You gracefully speak with such ease, naturally. You are the prime example of hope and humble.
You allowing me to make mistakes and Dad trying to prevent them made me who I am. For that reason, I never wish you guys stayed together. Having divorced parents worked out well for me, thank you. I know there are things you wish you could have done for us, but yesterday will always be then and today will always be now.
When something happens, I know you wonder where you went wrong. You’re not that person, Mom. You’re not us. You were us before we were adults, now we are our own person. I know if you could change so many things, you would have. I still think of the terrible nightmares you suffered through after that unexpected moment in our lives. I know you still hear the bang on the door. I still remember you struggling, and now you’re doing your dream job – walking into prisons and filing cases for criminals. I still remember you giving top notch advice to all of our friends, they knew they could trust you. I know I have a great mom when people ask about you. I know I have a great mom when I can tell our funny stories, knowing they will make someone else laugh too. I know I have a great mom when I remember who I am.
You’re my home, Mom. You’ve always been my home. I miss my home when I’m away, I miss my mom. I miss my bed that I know you made, and I miss my room that I know you cleaned. I miss my items that I know you rearrange into your own way in my room. I can’t wait to see you look out the window and see me in the driveway. To open the door, and say “I didn’t miss you at all” knowing you did with a smirk on your face. I have all the texts to prove it. “Here comes the mess,” “it was good while it lasted!” because the house was clean before I walked in. I love walking in and smelling your candles lit and firing away, I missed that smell. That’s the smell of my home.