31 Letters in 31 Days: Letter 21 – Dear Mum

Dear Mum.

In eleven days I am going to the youngest country in the world for quarter of a year. I am going with a mature head and a new body, and I have you to thank for that. The never-ending support from the moment I entered the world. Sometimes, I look at other mums, pushing their kids around in filthy buggies, with no shoes and socks on – in January, or clouting their kid over the head when they won’t do as their told, or disowning their kid for falling in love with the ‘wrong’ person. You’ve never stopped loving me and the kids. Not for one second. Even though we’ve given you every excuse to do so. I know I’ve pushed you to the very, very limit, with my mental health problems and stubbornness, but I’ve learnt from you how to tackle it, how to live in my body, leaving as little damage behind as possible. I wasn’t grateful enough when you would give crystals instead of money from the ‘tooth fairy,’ and I should have known you were right when you limited our TV watching and video game playing. It was for the best in the end. We had stories and walks and made nature tables instead. I can’t believe how lucky I’ve been to have a mother so in tune with her children, so on the ball and compassionate. Yeah, sure, we’ve had some major fall outs, but it’s only natural. We’re both been in a lot of pain, over words thrown at each other. But, we’ve always made up properly. You’ve never thrown me out or hated me for long periods of time.  You know forgiveness and how to put it into action, and I’ve adopted that from you. I’m proud that you are everybody’s mum. I’m proud people come around to our house for your advice, for your love and support and generosity. You’ve let the weirdest people with bad intentions into the family semi-detached, and have been taken advantage of by lying creeps, but again, that’s just another example of your normal routine; being there for everyone, even the ones you’re not so sure about. Course, that hasn’t happened for a long time now. Those people have made you wiser and stricter, to the ones who come in a bumble and can’t look you in the eye. Our family used to be the target of the village we lived in, bullied and scorned and called martins because we were ‘different’ to the rest of them. Yeah, we were different. We weren’t in-bred. I wear a leather jacket that was once your biker jacket, and love telling people that you once sat on Lemmy’s knee.