Jennifer's books

Goodbye, Vitamin
American Fire: Love, Arson, and Life in a Vanishing Land
Mrs. Hemingway
Poetry Will Save Your Life: A Memoir
The Princess Diarist
Watch Me Disappear
Hello, Sunshine
Peak Performance: Elevate Your Game, Avoid Burnout, and Thrive with the New Science of Success
A Man Called Ove
The Heirs
Our Souls at Night
White Fur
Confessions of a Domestic Failure
The Map That Leads to You
The Little French Bistro
Love the Wine You're With
Always and Forever, Lara Jean
Midnight at the Bright Ideas Bookstore
The Party
New Boy

Jennifer Curry's favorite books »

Friday, May 12, 2017

A Letter to My Mom

Dear Mom,

Now that I have two kids, I am more in awe of you. How did you do it? You were there every day listening, nurturing, laughing, and cheering us on. Weren’t you exhausted? Did you ever feel rung out?

I couldn’t tell. When I think back on my years living under your roof, I only remember you losing it a handful of times. Like the time you slammed dinner on the table and the rice flew everywhere. It got our attention. I was a teenager then, but Mom, I have already slammed dinner down way more times than you, and my kids aren’t even in the double digits.

I never left your side. I followed you into the bathroom – and even as an adult I catch myself still following you in that sacred space. Why did you let me? Didn’t you need those few minutes to yourself to just sit and breathe?

I used your body as a pillow. My friends used your body as a pillow. You were comfortable and cozy, and you let us all lay our heads in your lap and across your legs at any time. I never remember you pushing me off (unless it was to go to the bathroom, and then I followed you). Didn’t you want to say “I am a person – not your personal pillow!”? Why didn’t you?

You did not drive, so you were stuck in the house with me as a child all day every day. How did you stay sane?

When you lost your baby and then your sister, how did you keep on getting up each day and taking care of me when you were hurting so deeply? I have many days when I have to pull myself together and I have not faced the hardships you endured.

You still made me feel safe and loved during my horrendous hormonal teenage years when I said awful things to you. What kept you from spewing venom in my direction whenever I crossed the line?

Dad told me how you cried for hours after dropping me off at college, but I never saw you cry. How were so brave? How did you hold yourself together in front of me while leaving me in a room with an actual party taking place in a big city? How did you keep yourself from rushing back in and dragging me home?

I am learning each day how hard it is to be a mom – and I am in awe of how you loved me the way you did. Mothering can leave you exhausted, overwhelmed, and feeling rung out, but you did a great job of hiding it and not making me feel like a burden. You treated us as blessings.

I have already made many mistakes in my 6 years of mothering, but I hope I can redeem myself by being more like you.

I love you!
- Jennifer

I have no reason to include this picture except that I love it. 

PS. I’m sorry about the hole in the wall. 

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