A Letter To My Parents
Dear mom and dad,
First off I’d like to say thank you. In this world you are the ones I love the most and am most thankful for. Not only have you brought me to life, you’ve clothed me, fed me, helped me and will continue to help me in the future. I will never be able to show you how thankful I am. I know we’ve been through tough times but I’m growing up. You may begin to slowly let go of my hand.
I remember crossing the road hand in hand, looking from left to right, as we are walking home from the park down the street. W. Minnehaha Ave. has always been a busy street, which is one of the great things about where we lived. This house that used to feel enormous is now an average little house. I remember when it was filled with little kids running around, ladies in the kitchen gossiping while cooking and men playing cards in the living room. So much laughter and happiness filled this house. As time passed the house grew quieter. Those little kids became young adults and some having children of their own. The ladies and men are starting to have wrinkles and returned to their own homes to take care of their grandchildren. This house may not be at it used to be but it’s still a home, it’s still my home, our home.
Your kids have grown. Your oldest son is going to be 22 this year. I remembered the day he moved out last September. That day dad said some wise words that made mom cry, it finally hit her that her first child is letting go of her hand. That day began a new chapter in our lives. We’re growing up. Your second son, still under your roof yet barely home but your trust in him seems endless. He’s a good child and you know it, sometimes he makes some dumb decisions but there are Your oldest daughter went off to college last September too. It seems everyone is leaving. Even though she’s living on campus only two hours away she still expects you to pay her phone bill every month. Financially it’s getting difficult. Every hard earned dollar is to see a better future. Your 5th child, the second youngest son is a soft hearted big boy. He does what he wants and yet wants what he does not know. He is bright in his own way but the way you baby him made him lazy. Your youngest son, your baby is now in the 8th grade, going to be a freshman in high school next year. We are sprouting, slowly one by one we begin to rebel and become some of what you don’t want us to be but we have good roots. We know what is good and what isn’t, sometimes we may get lost along the way but with your guidance and long lectures that we can’t stand, we eventually get back on our feet.
Listening to your lectures makes me mad sometimes because at the time they seem useless and annoying but I’ve realize they were never useless. Your words were always wise and full of sincerity just like those conversations I have with mom in the car. We’d talk about our opinions and perspectives, we’d talk about family and school, we’d talk about the future and the past, we’d talk and we’d talk until we realized we’ve been sitting in the parked car for an hour and finally decide to go inside.
There are many stories, tales and myths that dad would talk about, explaining why so many things came to be and the beliefs of the Hmong culture. I’d honestly like to know more about dad’s story in detail. I think it would make a great book. There were so many adventures that dad experienced, the Hmong’s secret war, coming to America, starting a new life.
I’m growing up. Soon I’ll be learning how to drive and then I’m off to college. I want to believe that I’ve grown and matured but for certain, I’m not a baby anymore. You can begin to let go of my hand, slowly.
Sometimes you guys are a little bit too overprotective but I get it, you just want me to be safe. Sometimes your words and actions can be too harsh but after a fight you know I’m quick to forgive and forget, that’s something I got from dad.
I want to fly. My wings are beginning to flutter.
Someday I will hold your hands and guide you. I will be someone. Trust me, I will not leave you so easily. Even though I may have to leave for a while, family still is the most important. No matter where I go or what I become I will always be your daughter and my parents you’ll always be.
I’ll love you forever,
I’ll like you for always…
But she couldn’t finish because she was too old and sick. The son went to his mother. He picked her up and rocked her back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And he sang this song:
I’ll love you forever,
I’ll like you for always,
As long as I’m living
my Mommy you’ll be.
Love You Forever by Robert Munsch
Txee Cynthia Yang