In honor of Mother's Day this Sunday, I want to share this letter that I found while rummaging through old computer files. I wrote it back in October 2003 for my mother's birthday. To be honest, I didn't initially remember writing it, though once I started reading, the emotions all came flooding back. The sentiment resonates just as much now as it did then (I was a sophomore in college). I hope my mother doesn't mind me posting this, but I very much wanted to honor such a special and influential person by sharing with you all how great she is (if you don't already know). Happy Mother's Day to my friends and family who are mothers. But especially, happy Mother's Day, Mom. I love you.
October 15, 2003
Dear Mommy,
Before you came to College Station on Sunday I had bought you a birthday card and, although it wasn’t great, I figured I could just write in what the card failed to mention. However, I am not even sure I can come up with the words here to describe how much you mean to me . . . especially after Sunday.
First of all, your goal with Daddy to have a relationship with your kids, you have succeeded and exceeded with that expectation. As you two once wrote in a birthday card to me, I will still hold your hand and am unashamed to be seen with you in public. How can I possibly not act this way toward you? You have been there for me in every way and have given me no reason to ever not want to have a relationship with you. Sure, there are those times when we fight and we need a break from each other, but when it comes down to it—I know you’re still my mom and that you are there for me. If anything, our relationship has inspired me to be the mother (one day) that you have been to me. You are an inspiration and role model to me and there is no way I will ever be ashamed to have you in my life—even if you do scream out "'Bye Smirky!" with the windows down in Mosher Circle.
Also, I love the fact that you can make me cry when you’re trying to make me laugh and make me laugh when all I want to do is cry. And all those times I told you you wouldn’t understand—subconsiously I always knew that you would. One of the things I miss about being home is I have no one to hold me when I am upset. Yes, I have someone to talk to on the phone . . . but it's not the same. However, considering the circumstances, I’d rather talk to you on the phone and hear your comforting voice than not have anyone to talk to at all. I have been so blessed to have someone who can see the clarity in my life when all I see is the chaos.
Remember when I told you about the deep questions we were asked at Fish Camp? And someone asked, "What was the one thing someone did for you that made you feel really loved?" Well, my answer was you saying you’d come to College Station on Sundays to eat lunch with me while everybody did their religion thing. (2011 side note: I was unaware that A&M was predominately a Christian university, and as someone who was not raised in a religious household, that adjustment was very hard for me because people were constantly doing the church/lunch thing on Sundays. I felt incredibly lonely and out of place. Thankfully, in the second semester, Sara, Caitlin, and David noticed this and invited me to Fazoli's each Sunday with them. That, and my involvement in ALOT and Fish Camp, is what kept me at A&M when I considered transferring. Okay . . . back to the letter).
It never worked out last year, but the fact that you were willing to do that made me feel so special. And then last week, I called you when I was sick and you said you’d be here by 12:30. In spite of my pain, I felt so relieved, happy, and again, special. The fact that you drove three hours round trip to spend two hours with me, just to make sure I was okay, really meant a lot to me. I have bragged about you ever since and many of my friends are envious that I have a mother who would go to such lengths for me—and I just smile and tell them that I have a wonderful mother. I know that your trip is not even the beginning of what you’ve done for me in the past and I know there’s still plenty of times to come when you’ll selflessly go to similar lengths to help me.
I know that we joke about you taking second string to Daddy, but please don’t ever really think that that’s the case. I love each of you for your separate traits and for being different, and I love both of you together for giving me such a wonderful life, so much support (especially now when I am really needing it) and such great opportunities. Just like I have my memories with Daddy, I have my memories with you. Our favorite, oddly, is the stomach flu incident—I don’t think we’ll ever forget that. (2011 side note: When I was about ten, I woke up feeling sick. I walked to my mother's bedroom to tell her so, and as soon as I got to the doorframe, she told me not to come any closer, that she was sick, too. So for hours we both stayed in our own beds . . . until I started throwing up as well. Turns out we had the same bug. And after that discovery, we spent the rest of the day watching TV in my parents' room. Since Dad was out of town, Nicole took care of us when she got home from school—with a towel over her mouth, of course, so she didn't catch our germs. My mom and I were sick as dogs, but the taking care of each other throughout the day made it such a special experience. Okay, back again to the original letter.)
I also remember you singing “Goodnight Sweetheart” (as much as we hated it), your attendance to my games and tournaments and the whistling from the stands, running after me with the video camera as I boarded the school bus for the first time, the parties you gave me in school as a class mom, the time Hilary and I "skipped" school the day before Homecoming and you took us shopping instead, etc. Recently I have reflected on such memories in my life and I just stand back and say, "Wow," because I realize now truly how fortunate I am to still have you two so actively involved in my life. And with you, Mom, I really believe our relationship has gotten even closer now that I am in college and I constantly need you for support. I guarantee that that need is not going to end anytime soon—it’s only the third semester.
I may make fun of you for your computer illiteracy—you make fun of me for my grace (okay, lack there of). You still call me Smirky, I still call you Mommy. Nothing is going to change that, or how much I love you. Not college, marriage, kids. When you look back at this all, I want you to remember that you did reach your goal. In my eyes we have an amazing relationship and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Yes, we’re still going to fight here and there. Yes, there are still going to be times when we don’t get each other or I don’t express how much I appreciate you. I apologize in advance for those times and for me being "Pauline" (even though you’re right, there are times that I am proud of that). But please realize that no matter what, I appreciate you for being such a great mother and friend. I appreciate you for being there for me even when I’m not there for myself. And I appreciate you being there for me and giving me something to strive for in my life. One day I hope to make a goal with my husband (2011 side note: Whoa, I have one now. Weird.) to have great relationships with our kids, not because I didn't have that growing up, but because I don’t know it any other way. And when that time comes, I’ll be coming to you for even more advice, because what better way to learn about great relationships than to talk to you.
Happy Birthday—I Love You!
Love,
Smirky
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