Dear Mom,
As the years go by I find myself longing for a different part of you. I knew a superb mother who always put her children first. She worked east coast hours at 5am to pack lunches and drive us to school. I loved her with the adoration only a child can give their hero. But I want more.
Some days my mind daydreams about the woman you were beyond a mother. Seven year old Marissa pressed against the hallway door listening as you hosted your girlfriends for Sex and the City parties. What’s a cosmo? Now I know why you wouldn’t let me watch the show as a kid.
But what if life was different? Would we be curled up on the couch two decades later watching reruns and debating if I’m Samantha or Carrie? I’d cry in your arms about the first boy who broke my heart and you’d console me with heartbreak stories of your own. Over wine you’d advise me on things that would mortify teenage Marissa. You’d help pick first date outfits with FaceTime debriefs after. We’d have photos from my wedding where you’d look amazing and I’d look like a younger you.
As I became a woman I slowly peeled back the protective armor you covered yourself in to be a strong parent. I see the woman you were before me and in the shadow of motherhood. You were flawed. You were hurt in the past. You were loved by and loved men who didn’t deserve you. There was sex and alcohol and girls nights and all the things we can’t imagine our mothers doing but are experiences that made them who they are. I’ll never know this woman but I’m thankful to learn more about her.
Happy birthday Mom. You are the greatest love of my life and worst heartbreak. Tonight I will toast the woman you were and the woman you inspire me to be.
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