A Letter to The Mom I Never Knew

Dear Betty,

A lot has changed since the last time you saw me, I’ve grown at least a foot, lost all of my baby teeth, and now know how to tame the unruly uni-brown that genetics has passed onto me.

You see, I was unpacking the dishes that my sister, your first daughter, had set aside for me after you left. And boy did it suck. With every dish I unwrapped I knew you had touched it, had washed it, had prepared a meal to put on it (a meal that I will probably never prepare, because let’s be real…did not get your cooking genes).

Then it happened, I found a dirty dish. I lost it. All I could think was, this could have been the last plate you touched before it happened. The last plate you used yourself without someone having to feed you. I know I should wash it, but it’s hard to wash away another piece of you.

Why should I have to give up one more piece?

You’ve missed so much mom, so many conversations we should have had, so many boys you should haveĀ been here to tell me were stupid, so many things you just weren’t here to see. And now I’m sitting in my apartment, wishing you could be here. To see it, to give me your stamp of approval, to tell me to be careful and what wines go best with a broken heart.

But you aren’t, and you never will be. I miss you so much, and very few people can begin to understand how one can miss someone they barely knew. And it sucks, it sucks so much mom.

I’ve accepted that you won’t be here for a lot of things, like the major events in my life…but I’ve found I never really prepared myself for the day-to-day things. Like buying chairs, or picking out which flowers to plant, just simple things I want your advice on. But unfortunately I was jipped. And our relationship was cut short.

Well, to make a long letter even longer, just wanted to say I love you, miss you, and wish you could see my new place.

Love always,

your miracle baby.

P.S. I graduated from college with honors, and barely partied/made poor decisions.

P.P.S. I decided I want to become a writer, and before you start in on me about money just know dad already let me have it. But it makes me happy, so you should just support me..kay?

P.P.P.S. Also, if there is anyway you could pull some strings, you know…maybe drop an article or two onto Cosmo or Seventeen’s editor-in-chief’s desk, I would absolutely appreciate it.