A letter to my parents

Mom and Dad, 

I think you know that I’ve been heavily anticipating my escape from Akron for YEARS. I can’t wait for the freedom that comes with moving out and becoming more self-sufficient. However, the closer I draw to that new chapter of my life, the more I find myself hesitating. I’ve spent my whole life in this house with you, and the thought of leaving so suddenly is honestly terrifying. This is all I’ve ever known. 

College will be an experience full of growth, but I now know that I will dearly miss this life here, close to the people I love the most. Thank you for being my home for the past 18 years. I notice your small acts of love always.

 Here are a few that I will profoundly miss. 

Dad:

1. Bringing home little trinkets and gifts whenever you travel to a cool country. I’m debating bringing my collection to college because the items all remind me of you. 
2. Leaving paper notes for me telling me where you’re going and when you’ll be back because you didn’t want to send a text that might wake me up. 
3. Waking up early to make me breakfast every day, even when I had morning practice and had to leave at 5:30 AM. When you had morning meetings and couldn’t sit with me while I ate, you still remembered to leave something out for me. It sounds like such a simple act, but it literally makes my morning. 
4. Getting up extra early to warm my car up before I left for swim practice when it was really cold out. 
5. Clearing a little path in the snow for me from the house to the garage so that I wouldn’t get my shoes wet. 
6. Taking me to lunch during my enrichment breaks to get me out of the house and give me a break from the screen. I enjoyed our little lunch dates and conversations more than you know.
7. Naming and then regularly harassing the giraffe stuffed animal in my bedroom. Shoutout to poor Salsa Verde…
8. Getting my gas regularly, because gas stations still terrify me at 18-years-old. You try to make it seem as though it’s convenient for you, but I know that that’s not always the case. 
9. Coming into my room to say goodnight to me every single night without fail; sometimes multiple times if you feel that something is off or I seem upset. 
10. Constantly telling me how proud of me you are, and encouraging me to do what I want with my life rather than letting someone else determine my path. This will undoubtedly stick with me forever. 

Mom:

1. Leaving random little presents on my bed or flowers on my nightstand to surprise me. Flowers make me so incredibly happy. 
2. Making elaborately decorated homemade birthday cakes every year without fail. I don’t think I’ve ever had a store-bought cake, but yours do look like they belong in a bakery case (don’t worry, I’m still expecting a cake when I come home).
3. Reading me goodnight stories, specifically “Someday.” The bedtime books built a foundation for my love of reading. I guess you indirectly get the credit for that 36 Reading ACT (not-so-subtle flex) since you set it all in motion with those picture books (this one applies to Dad too for sure). 
4. Packing my lunches for school every day even though I’m definitely old enough to do it myself, and occasionally sneaking in little notes. I’ve kept them all. 
5. Taking pictures of me in front of the playhouse on every occasion without fail. You’d be able to watch me grow up looking through those in chronological order. From my first days of school to school dances, everything is there. 
6. Helping me craft the most iconic Halloween costumes all through elementary and middle school. If I’m being honest, I’ve already been missing this for a few years now. The piñata dress was legendary, and I love looking at my fabulous costumes that emerged through the years. 
7. Picking out my dance dresses. Yes, I’ll finally admit it. You have good taste sometimes. 
8. Spilling all your daily co-worker drama to me and complaining about your students. Also, gossiping with me about a few specific people that I don’t particularly like. It’s nice to rant to someone that doesn’t personally know the people I’m talking about. 
9. Saying “love you mostest more plus one,” and yelling “plus one!” down the hallway until someone gives up (plus one, to infinity, I win).
10. Hearing you call me “little bear” all the time, even though I’m not so little anymore.

Honorable mentions:

1. Letting me get away with leaving fake teeth for the “tooth fairy.” I don’t know which one of you decided to accept the Play-Doh-molded molars, but I love you for that. I really thought I was being sneaky at the time and it still makes me laugh to this day. 
2. Doing my laundry so that I don’t have to. I’m really, really, going to miss this one…

Mom: We’ve been close ever since I was old enough to recognize that I’m basically a mini-you. You have built me into a strong, independent young woman that knows when to be stubborn and refuses to make myself smaller for anyone. You have been so formative of the confidence that I am slowly learning to carry myself with. Thank you for setting me up to succeed and reminding me who I am when I get a little lost. 

Dad: I can’t remember a time that we didn’t get along, but lately you have become my rock. Words can’t explain how thankful I am for your patience and presence over these past few months. You have put so much effort into making sure I feel loved and supported through it all, whether that be regarding college choices, mental health or anything else imaginable. Your quiet love does not go unnoticed by me, and I will always be so grateful. 

I am lucky to have such impressive role models that foster greatness and goodness within me. I have endless admiration for the respect you have for each other. Because of you, I know what healthy love looks like and will not settle for a relationship that is anything less than I deserve. 

I will miss being a child as I move out and take on my own responsibilities, but I look forward to friendships with you two in place of a parent-child dynamic in the future. Although I am now an adult and am beginning a new phase of my life outside of this home, I will always be your “little bear,” no matter how old I am.