Dear Mom

Moms… what more can I really say about them that has not already been felt a thousand times before?

I think that is the difficult thing about writing for a mother. Words never quite feel enough to hold the kind of love they give so effortlessly. But still, I tried.

I wrote this for the mothers who continue loving us through every version of ourselves — even the distant ones, the lost ones, the difficult ones. The ones who somehow keep seeing light in us long after we stop seeing it ourselves.

And honestly, the funniest part is that while I was writing the final lines of this poem, my mom started shouting from downstairs asking me to bring down all the dishes I had collected in my room.

Which felt strangely perfect.

Because I think every emotional moment with a mother is lovingly interrupted by a little scolding.