A letter to my mother as i leave home

Dear Mom,

Here we are eighteen summers later. For me, these years have moved at a pace similar to a turtle crawling through peanut butter. I know that for you, though, they've flashed by as quickly as a bolt of lightning. Whatever the speed of my growing up may have been, the fact is that it's over now.

In about three weeks from now you won't come to shoes I left in the living room. You won't yell up the stairs to ask if I have any clothes that need to be washed. You won't get annoyed with the number of hours I keep you up while prancing around your bedroom going on and on about nothing. You won't pass my car around town. You won't have to run to school to bring me the pair of socks I need for the game. You won't hear me complaining about not wanting to watch the channel you have it on. You won't even have to worry about me stealing a shirt from your closet.

In about three weeks from now, I won't come home every afternoon to sit in the backyard with you and talk about my day. I won't beg you to cook chicken for supper (every single night). I won't leave water bottles all over the house for you to pick up. I won't hear you call out to me every morning that you love me on your way to work. I won't run down the stairs to ask you which shoes look better. Or which dress looks more appropriate for the occasion. Or if I should wear my hair up, down, or something in between. I won't be in the chair beside you every time one of our favorite Julia Roberts movies comes on. I won't even be able to go steal a shirt from your closet when none of mine are quite right.

It'll be a whole new world for the both of us. And mom I'm kind of scared. But at the same time I am more than ready. You prepared me for this world. You taught me how to live like a Proverbs 31 woman. How to do laundry. How to balance a check book. How to line my lips. How to shop. How to be there for someone. How to ask for help when I need it. How to pick myself up when I'm down. How to be feminine and strong all at once. Thankfully, you taught me how to be just like you.

The truth is I could never thank you enough. For being in the stands at every game. For cheering the loudest. For being the proudest. For telling me how to do better, and recognizing the pride I have when I give it my all. For giving me basic life skills. For giving me your nose, and your spirit. For bringing me the socks I forgot. For always telling me you love me. For telling me when I look beautiful, and being honest with me when I don't. Thank you mom for the big things you've done for me. More importantly thank you for the small things. Thank you for everything in between.

Mom you've shown my the world is mine for the taking. You've given me everything I need to take it. So I won't be scared, sad, or anxious when I think about moving away. And you shouldn't be either. I will still call you daily to go on and on about nothing. You'll still tell me daily that you love me. And I know without a doubt we'll both be fine in this new world we're entering.

I love you Mom