Dear Mama

Dear Mama,

There are days when I wish I could go back and sit across from you again. The innocent little girl with so many possibilities playing around and around in her head. The days when I would sit and think about nothing of consequence. I remember when life was simpler and how I did take that for granted. I want to go back and be the reason you smiled, even though you faced so many struggles that I never understood until I got older. I wish I could hold your hand and know that no matter what, somehow, it would be ok.

The days I would fight and argue with you, but the next day it would be as if none of it even mattered. The days when if I felt upset or lonely, you would notice and try to help in some way. On the off chance that it didn’t work, you would still try anyway because you knew it was better than not trying. It was better than the ignoring and the distance that now separates us.

So many things I now see that I wish I was still oblivious to because it would be easier. The not knowing was at peace in its own way. Disagreements happen, and I, for one thing, know it isn’t just one-sided. The blame falls on me too. In some weird way, there seems to be comfort in the acknowledgment of that, but it is bitter in its solace.

The little girl that still resides inside of me will always want her Mama in some form, and I hope one day, you will be able to recognize that. I hope, in some way, we can cherish those moments we had together, even if brief. As a whole, it was a brief time that I wish I could have extended now.

Lost chances and distant happiness of our time spent together as a family will always be a regret within my soul, but I see now that it won’t change how things are. It won’t make you answer when I call or be the shoulder I lean on for comfort. When things go wrong, I find myself wanting to confide in you, but where there was a time I could do that, it isn’t possible now.

Although I will always be your little girl, the one person whom you created in your image of how the world should be, I sometimes forget that we both are human. Our humanity is what defines us and proves that we are not unbreakable. We make mistakes, and I have made my fair share of them. I am reminded that this is, all of it, fragile even if I want certain moments to be permanent. I am yours as much as you are mine. That thought brings me some peace knowing at least one thing of me permanently binds me to you. I can look at myself to find bits of you, and in my memories, those bits are perfect.