You’re probably quite surprised that you’re reading this, because to find it you’ll have had to scroll back through any future ramblings that I have yet to write before I decide that I want to show this to anyone (warning: there’s probably some really bad grammar in here, but I couldn’t get you to proof read it like my dissertation now could I – I never did inherit your grammatical and linguistic skills despite your best efforts).
I’m not the best when it comes to saying how I feel to people, especially when those feelings are about them. So I decided I need to write it down, to tell you just how wonderful you really are. Over the years my head’s been cloudy, I haven’t been able to realise just how lucky I am to have a mum who will drop everything for me to be by my side when times are tough. I know I haven’t been the ideal daughter at times and have caused you headaches and upset, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Until now, I haven’t realised just how much I have in comparison to others, that the things you’ve done for me over the years aren’t as typical as I thought. The things like driving up to Durham as early as you could when I was attacked, for turning up with chocolate and happy things when I broke up with my boyfriend, for taking a week off work to support me when I had to defer my exams in second year. I’m really lucky to have you, and I don’t think there ever will be enough words or enough times for me to say it to truly show how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I know that everything you’ve done for me whilst I’ve been throwing a tantrum was because you wanted what was best for me, and I’m so very very grateful. It’s not every mum who spends the first few years of her daughters life being a full time mum, and it’s not every mum who lets her daughter do pretty much whatever she wants (so long as it’s not a tattoo or a septum piercing or something off-the-scale stupid). From the off you’ve never told me I can’t do something because of being a girl and you gave me a childhood free from Barbies, baby dolls and Princess birthdays and and filled with whatever I wanted, even when people thought “that’s for boys” (I don’t remember any other girls my age having a Thunderbirds birthday cake at the time). You’ve given me a life full of books and plays and all the things which I love most in the world, and you’ve helped me to do things which I’ve loved, like getting to work at a zoo, at literature festivals and at marketing agencies, plus you helped me get my first weekend job when I was 14. You and Dad have spent your lives saving so that I don’t have to worry about where I’ll get the deposit for a house from, so that I don’t really have to worry about staying close to home for university or for job hunting to save money and that I never really had to think about whether or not I could afford to study a Masters because I knew you’d help me. Heck, you bought me a bassoon so that I could carry on playing when I left school, and you payed for me to swan off to France for a week just to visit a friend. There aren’t many parents who do that.
Nobody’s perfect, I know we’ll both admit that, but I know that the decisions you’ve made that I haven’t liked were done out of love, not spite. One day, if I have children, I hope I’m as good a mother as you. If not, I’ll settle for half as good, because even then that’s pretty damn awesome (it’s a cliché, but it’s true).
So thanks Mum (and you too Dad). Thanks for loving me unconditionally and managing to always know what to say to make me think it’s going to be okay because I know that, no matter what, you’re there for me. I know you worry about me all the time, but I will be okay. Promise.
– Your daughter
P.S. I hope you like the pictures. It’s ironic that we’ve completely swapped hair colours now, don’t you think?