Dear Mum,
Four years ago, I couldn't wait to move out of the house so I could live independently and run things the way that I wanted. Now I spend a great many happy hours devising excuses to land at your place, which I think of as five-star vacationing. I think of the pair of jeans you altered for me in a tight deadline of 5 minutes, my favourite rice that you cook even though it takes half the day, the temper tantrums you still shrug off, half my summer wardrobe that you purchase (eerie how you understand my style), the nightly glass of milk I always forget but you never do... I could go on but you wouldn't be moved - these gestures come so naturally to you; they mean the world to me.
In throes of introspection I realise how much like you I am, and how fortunate that makes me. I love you, you know.
Yours.
My Dear Baby Girl,
I thought it would break my heart when you stepped out of this house, never to live here again. Just like I thought it would break my heart when you rolled over for the first time and landed on your pretty little bottom on the floor when you were six months old. Both times both of us cried. I did not, however, then think how strong and proud you would make me feel; you do. I wished for some happiness and God gave you to me so I could never be sad again. If not for you, I'd be lost. Wherever you are, whenever, you make me complete.
Love Always,
Mum
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