Since I was born, you have been there. Your world as you once knew it stopped and began to revolve around a new sun, your baby, me. You showed me being strong means growing through the pain. That crying can be good and is at times necessary before new beginnings can blossom.
You taught me to love myself, you taught me to care about others, and you taught me being the best I can be does not mean being the same as everyone else. I hope you know that I will always treasure what you have done and how you have raised me.
Unfortunately, as children grow, a time will come when they realize that their parents do not have all the answers and their paths may be different than the ones their parents have laid. They will have to make a decision between turning against what they believe or setting off on their own journey, following their hearts.
I stand at this crossroad. It is not you, it is me. Our lives are simply going in different directions. The first time I realized was last month when you cut my peanut butter and jelly sandwich in triangles after I specifically asked for triangles. You neglected to read my mind and know I really wanted squares. And then you were unable to repair the cut sandwich to re-cut it the way I needed.
A few days later, you peeled my banana, but I wanted to do it on my own. You were unable to put the peel back on so I could exercise my independence. You promised me that next time I could do it by myself — as if that was enough to fix the wrongs that had occurred.
And then you wouldn’t let me put all my coloring pages into that little box that you called a VHS player when we all know movies are digital and the so-called “VHS player” is a secret mailbox to Santa.
Last week you were unable to resurrect that crumpled free sticker from the bank that I handed you while sobbing that it was ruined and I didn’t want it anymore. I had big plans for that sticker — big life-altering plans.
Just this morning you fixed cereal for my sister and me. You put her cereal in the blue bowl…THE BLUE BOWL! And if that wasn’t bad enough, you insisted that the cereal would taste the same in the purple bowl. A preposterous assumption!
So as you see, I will always hold a special place for you in my heart and will forever treasure the three and a half years we had together. You will never stop being my mom, but I simply can not go on like this any longer. I need time to discover who I am. I wish you the best.
Until we meet again,
Your three and a half-year-old
P.S. I wanted to write this letter in blue crayon, but due to technical difficulties I had to use your computer. I hope you don’t mind.
P.P.S. Before I go, can you help me get the blue crayon out of my nose?