Dear Mommy,
See, sometimes there's a good reason that I'm hidden away in my room on the computer. =)
I would write this letter in private, for your eyes only, and I will. Some time, you will open a letter written just to you, for only you to see. But I feel like this world deserves to catch a little glimpse of the woman who enables me to have a fantastic mother-daughter relationship that I simply adore.
Did you know that when I was little, I would never, ever get up out of bed after you tucked me in? I didn't want to mess up the wonderful job you'd done tucking me in. I don't remember when you stopped "tucking," but I miss it. Obviously, my bed misses it too. The poor thing can't seem to pull itself together...
I have never known a woman quite like you, and I don't think I ever shall. And of course, I mean that in the most complimentary way possible. I think your laugh is one of the most beautiful sounds in the world. Your smile is one of the most gorgeous things I've ever seen. And you're the most huggable mommy ever. (After all, you have that purple sweater!)
I tell people that our "deep" conversations go something like this: You have something to talk to me about. You tell me. I cry. Then you cry. Then maybe I get mad, and maybe we raise our voices slightly. Someone invariably interrupts. We cry some more, I admit that I'm wrong (because I am), and then we always, always end with a declaration of our undying love. Then I attempt to repair my face and un-stuff my nose.
Either that, or it has nothing to do with either of us being wrong, and we have the best time ever. That's not quite as amusing to tell...but that's what changes me. That's what I remember the most, is just talking. Maybe about something, maybe about nothing at all. I love talking to you.
That's one of the reasons I'm glad I'm growing up. When I was little, I would never quite "get it." In fact, I probably had this look on my face like, "Mom, you are so weird." Maybe I still get that face sometimes...but now, I understand. I know why you're talking to me. I get that what you're saying is important, that it has meaning for you, for me, and for the people around us.
And so I wanted to write you and make you promise -- and promise you in return -- that those conversations will never stop. We'll never stop spontaneously sitting down, extending what was supposed to be a thirty-second comment into a two hour conversation about life.
You know what just came on my iPod? Watching You. All I need to do is say "horse whisperer" and you'll get exactly what I'm saying. And that's just one of so many lessons and revelations we've experienced together. I'm so looking forward to sharing my college lessons and revelations with you, and hearing about the ones you have while I'm away. I will conquer the phone and talk to you so much that you'll get sick of me.
And even when that day comes when maybe I won't call you for an hour-long conversation... You'll still be a part of everything I say and do. I've thanked God so many times that I was given you for a mom. I'd be a very different person without you (and not a better one!). I wish I were a better daughter, not because you've ever made me feel like I'm not good enough, but because I really, really wish I could repay you for all you are. But I know that's not even possible. So all I can do is say "thank you", and "I love you." Because I do. So, so much.
Love,
Kendall
