Dear Julia,
Sometime yesterday, after your sister said she hated you, and then you called her an asshole, and then I yelled at everyone, and then you slammed the door and drove off, I began missing you.
I don't know why I feel so broken right now. I've been crying since you left. There is still one week to go until you drive off for good, leaving the nest, my arms and our little family, to head off across the world, to San Marcos, Texas.
I do know that I am proud of you because when I was your age I didn't have much self esteem, I didn't make good choices, I didn't help my parents with anything, I didn't like grown ups because I was nowhere near being a grown up, I didn't know what I wanted, I didn't like to work hard. I was nothing like you. But still, the feeling that I made too many mistakes is killing me, because I am out of time to teach you, and you are out of patience to listen. The fact that we now have a close relationship seems short of a miracle.
It was during the divorce that I lost you. You blamed me at first until you were old enough to figure it out on your own. The beginning of the end, though, was when you were around 12 and we had that brief cancer scare when your semi-neurotic mother noticed those lumps on you, which were quickly diagnosed as growing boobs. The side effects of growing boobs, oddly, caused extreme moodiness. Although I'm sure there were more, my last memory of laughter with you back then was when you taught me the Soulja Boy dance in 6th grade. After that, you pulled away. Everything was kept a secret from me like the undetectable internet you downloaded onto my computer, the boys you didn't want me to know about, the clothes you snuck out of the house to change into at school, and the out of town trips you took in your car without permission. I want you to know, as you enter the big world as an adult, you now have my permission to have a MySpace account, date boys, dress like a hoochie, and drive wherever you want without having "The Club" steering wheel lock ground your car.
I feel like I made mistakes with you where I was too strict in some areas and too lenient in others, especially after the divorce and fallout that followed. I was too overwhelmed to do a great job and I am out of chances to do better. I am afraid that the reason you are so tough is because your life was too hard. I am afraid you are so sensitive because your feelings were hurt too much. I am afraid that the reason you date mean boys is because I didn't divorce soon enough. I am afraid that you fight with your sisters because I didn't have enough time to give you the attention you wanted. I am afraid you listen to that horrible music because you have some hearing problem I never followed up on.
I am afraid you will move away and not need me anymore. That last one is the worst fear of all, because in the last few years you became my best friend again. I cannot bear losing you twice.
I am afraid you will move away and not need me anymore. That last one is the worst fear of all, because in the last few years you became my best friend again. I cannot bear losing you twice.
So, lose you I will not as I have decided that in lieu of sending you money when you leave, I will make you earn it by coming to visit at a rate of $20 per hour of quality time. Not a joke. Make arrangements in advance.
I learned everything there is to know about love the day you were born. I hope you are grateful that I didn't include a single quote from Dr. Seuss' "Oh, The Places You'll Go" this time. I will instead leave you with a unique yet poignant quote from one of your favorite rappers, Wiz Khalifa:
"Damn I need yo love like a weed stick. Bein' wit out you is like Kathy no Regis."
But still, I'll say goodbye...
Love,
Mom
