My mother and I used to have a complicated relationship. Until I was about 20, we couldn't be around one another. She was a source of so much unbearable pain for me - the kind that leaves you with a burning, itchy case of PTSD.
Eventually, I saw a change in her. First slowly, then all of a sudden. She became softer, loving, funny - human. Finally, 20 years after giving birth to me, my mother was human - something I had waited my whole life so far for. We reconciled, I forgave, she forgave, we became what mothers and daughters SHOULD be - two parts that make a whole. Now that I am a mom, I found that she is a thing inside me I can't escape, no matter how much I denied it or how far I ran from it before. I can embrace it now. Because she has newly grown so much, she has also become me in so many ways. I have learned to be softer from her, and she has learned to be silly and crazy from me. My past still lurks, and I still can't find the courage to use the words "I love you," but I hope she sees it in my teary eyes everytime one of us boards a plane to go back to our homes.
I know she won't read this because I won't send it to her, so I guess I can practice. I love you, mom!
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