Dear Mom,
Happy birthday! I know you don’t want to hear it, but you’re getting old. Youth avoids you now, but wisdom accepts you. I want to thank you for imparting that wisdom on me. Ever since I was small, you have given so much to me – advice, knowledge, criticism, but most importantly, love. You’ve raised me into a responsible young man, and have always embodied the honesty and faith that I have come to respect and strive for myself. You’ve always been an advocate of rationality, democracy, and moral soundness. It seems that you live without regrets, and that is the kind of life that I want to live when I grow up.
Today, I went to go buy you a gift after the PSAT. During lunch with my friends, I asked, “Hey, what do you think I should get for my mom?” There were a lot of ideas being thrown around but I didn’t’ particularly agree with any of them. I half-joked, “Maybe I should just get her some flowers…” and then one of my friends looked at me with part-outrage and part-smile. She said, “Just flowers? Richard, this woman gave you life!”
That made me remember how often I take you for granted. Moms give so much to their children and get so little in return. How could I repay someone who gave me life? And I realize that I can’t repay you. There is no way to settle a debt that a son owes to his mother. The hand can do so much for the foot, but the foot can only do so little for the hand.
I know that sometimes we disagree on issues, especially those that concern my grades, activities, and test scores. When I talk to Dad about those issues, I usually just shut up, nod, and smile while he dictates his expectations and suggestions. But when I talk to you about those things, I reveal how much I care about those issues – I get frustrated, or angry, and I show it. And I apologize for fighting with you over these things that shouldn’t become fights. Sometimes I think about what I said or how I acted, and I feel sick to the stomach, regretting that I ever got either one of us upset over a simple discussion.
But I know you mean well for me. You have never shut down my intellectual spirit, or my ability to express myself. You’ve never restricted my opinion, or my freedom. You’ve always trusted me, even when I’ve done things to break that trust.
Mom, I want to thank you for raising me to be a self-thinking individual. I want to thank you for always being understanding, always being wise, always being helpful. I want to thank you for teaching me the values of honesty, of realistic thinking, of honor. Mostly though, I want to thank you for loving me. And maybe I’m too male or too proud to say it aloud, but Mom, I love you too.
Love,
Your Son,
