Letters from Sam

Mom

Dear Mom,

I love you. You've always been there for me, even if I didn't want you to help. You embarrassed me, harassed me, and made me who I am. You kept me in line, but still allowed me to make mistakes and correct myself. I thank you for that.

I remember the first day of school. I didn't want to go. But you encouraged me to get out there, out of your car, out of your shadow. You let go of my hand and nudged me forward to the others kids. I hung back, clutching your leg and your purse and your finger. And finally you told me to have fun, that you would wait in your car all day for me, and that if I needed to go home I could. And then two of the other kindergarteners came over and introduced themselves and I didn't see you until that first day was over. But I could always see your car, and I wasn't scared. When you saw me looking, you waved from the front seat, your work spread out across the dashboard and passenger seat. Thank you for putting up with me, for putting my needs before yours. You shouldn't have.

I remember my first performance. I waited backstage, clutching the paper in my hands, crumbling it up into a ball of black words and white paper, messed up like my mind. I trembled, couldn't keep steady. I crinkled that paper, clenching it like a lifeline. Sweat traced its way down my face, slipping down like salty tears. Black spots danced in my vision, twisting and turning and spinning in an intricate choreography of chaos. And then there you were. You had snuck back stage to wish me good luck. Your hands swallowed mind, cool and still against clammy and shaky. You smiled at me in that way that you do, and I gained my strength. You asked me if I had memorized everything, and I shrugged, panic dripping through my blood, twisting my insides until they were knotted and constricted by a boa. You took the paper from me, and had me recite every word on their. I did, perfectly. And then it my turn to go on stage. You watched me leave backstage, and then crept into the audience and saw my performance. I never removed my gaze from your face. You were my lifeline, my anchor to stay still and calm. And I was flawless. I didn't forget anything. Thank you for being my anchor, for keeping me tied down and stable.

Please don't blame yourself. You always do. So please don't. Not for what has happened or will happen or is happening right now. It's not your fault. You made the good things in my life. I brought all the bad onto myself. None of that is on you, it's on me.

I know you'll think that you could've done more, should've done more. Nothing you could've done would fix this. I'm broken, damaged. Beyond repair. It's not your fault. There were too many factors, too many causes, too many effects. Nothing you could've done would've changed me, kept me whole. I'm sorry.

Love,

Sam