For Her

Dear You,
It’s been a while since I told you how much I love you. I know that’s probably difficult for you to understand because all you ever hear is how much I hate you. How much of a disappointment you are. How much more you should be doing. I only say that because at the end of the day, I’m comfortable in telling you, what I cannot admit to myself.
I know that you hate that I hate him. I only wish you could see how much I hate that you love him. That you don’t mind that he loves his bottle. That you don’t mind that he doesn’t love me. That you don’t mind that he doesn’t love you. You were my best friend. The one who sat on the kitchen floor with me and ate off of paper plates so that we didn’t have to set the table or wash any dishes. The one who permitted me changing my name to “Diamond Sparkle Princess” just as long as I would walk into my first day of preschool. The one who taught me independence by taking away ten percent of my allowance to be put in a bank account.
I hated you for trying to help me. I hated you for wearing ugly clothes and embarrassing me in front of my friends. I wish you had just told me that you shopped at AmVets so that you could afford to buy me the unnecessary clothes that I insisted upon having. I wish you had told me that you worked ten hour days to support my selfish spending habits. I wish you had told me that everything Daddy said about you was a lie. I wish you had told me that he didn’t want me so that I would stop trying so hard to impress the one person that just wanted me gone. I wish I had understood that the only thing you ever wanted was my love in return.
I know that my approval means nothing but just for the record, I love the pride that you exude when you wear your hard earned uniform of scrubs and tennis shoes. I love the way that no matter how often you dye your hair, you always have at least an inch of grey roots. I love the way that you try so hard to impress my friends, only to make a complete fool of us both in the process. I love the way that you drive 54 miles per hour on all surfaces, just so you can get 58 miles to a gallon. But most of all, I love the way that you love me. You love me when you have a good day or a bad day. You love me when you’ve never felt healthier and when you come home with the results of cancer. You love me when I accept your affection and when I slam doors in your face. You love me even when I tell you I hate you.
I just wanted you to know that regardless of the words that I constantly throw at you, my heart will always be half yours. Because I am, as a whole, half of you. I love you, Mom.
Love,
Your Daughter