As I sit here in my mismatched pajamas with a cup of hot chocolate in my hand, I think of you. I think of how I wish you were the only person with me right now. I think of how you would be making me laugh to forget about being sick, the rain outside, and my rough week ahead. I think of how, if I weren't for you, I wouldn't be sitting here, in Athens, writing a blog post.
Mom, there are so many things I want to say to you. So many things that yes, I have said before, but each time I say them they become more and more true. So here's to you.
Mom, thank you for putting up with me. For over nineteen years now, you have loved me unconditionally and incredibly. You have witnessed my bad days and my good days, listened to my sob stories and my victories, hugged me when I cried and when I laughed. With each passing day, you love me more, despite how I act towards you. You put up with my crazy dreams, my embarrassing dance moves in public, and my need for absolute perfection. You do my hair and makeup for special days just like I ask, and fix it when it isn't just right. Thank you.
Mom, thank you for supporting me. I can't tell you a time that I came home from school that you didn't play the twenty questions game. Sure, I always found these moments somewhat tiring (maybe sometimes I still do), but I now realize just how much you cared about everything that happened to me, even the smallest details. My sophomore year of high school was no doubt the worst, but yet you stayed strong for me. Every day that I came home sick, cried in class, or simply just didn't want to get out of bed, you were there. You dropped everything and came to my rescue. When it came time to apply for college, you pushed me to dream bigger than what was in immediate reach. You pushed me to apply to UGA despite my fears. Even though you wanted me close to home, you knew that Athens was where I was meant to be. During my freshman year, when I wanted nothing more than to come back home, you brought home to me. You urged me to finish out the year, knowing I would change my mind. You were right. Thank you.
Mom, thank you for knowing me when I don't know myself. Just yesterday I called you crying, confused about, well, everything. You, though, you knew me. You knew how to talk me down from my ladder. You knew how to make everything make sense again. You always know just when I need to be alone, eat a cupcake, need a shopping day, or whatever it may be. You know me better than I know myself. Thank you.
Mom, thank you for acting like I don't hurt you. Though it may shock others, I'm not exactly the easiest person to get along with. I stress, I cry, I get a tad moody. I say things that I don't mean out of pure vulnerability to my emotions. I know I have hurt you with my words. There are many times when you should have given it right back to me, but you didn't. You calmly, once again, talked me down from my pedestal. Thank you.
Mom, thank you for being my best friend. I know I say a lot that "so and so" are my best friends, but you mom, you are it. I tell people all the time just how close we are, how I share everything with you (including some things that I probably shouldn't), and how regardless, you are my best friend. Like best friends, we fight. Why? We are just like each other. We both need perfection. We both need structure and planning. We both need to be right. Though this could be fatal in many relationships, somehow we make it work. Sure, we have our moments where we both are "just done", but two minutes later we are laughing at something on television. As my best friend, we have so many things in common. We love romantic comedies, brownies, and sleeping in late. We both love to cook, bake, and do these things together. We've conquered New York City together and lived to tell the tale. Thank you.
Finally, Mom, thank you for being my mom. I am so blessed to be your daughter. You exude grace and beauty, your smile could light up a room. You are kind to people you have never met before, and you go out of your way to help anyone in need. You exemplify a woman with a love for Christ, and you inspire me to become greater. You put others before yourself, leaving little time for you. You love children, which obviously has rubbed off on me. You are incredible, and if I become half the woman you are, I will be blessed.
Mom, you are everything to me. As I write this, I tear up because I know you are not always given your due. I tear up because I miss you even though I saw you two days ago. I tear up because I know that a life without you wouldn't be a life worth living.
Thank you, Mom. I love you.
Love,
Emily Renee'
P.S. Eric Hutchinson loves you too.