Mom, I'm Sorry

This is for my mom: I'm sorry for the way I was when I was 12 or 16. I realize now, because genetics don't lie, that I was probably often insufferable. I probably was certain that I was smarter than you and told you that often, in not such subtle ways (although I thought that a sneer was subtle.)

I probably took for granted the hotel-like service that you offered me throughout my teen years - a nice home, good food, laundry service. Geez, I was living like royalty. I probably rarely helped out and if I did it was with a groan. Did you often have to beg me to pick up my room? Did it look like a tornado passed through?

I probably grunted a barely audible "thank you" when you did something special. Something that you thought about all day and were excited to finish or purchase or do for me.

I probably never told you what was wrong when I was moping around the house and if I did, I probably acted like you were an idiot when you tried to help.

I probably never hugged you enough, if at all. Or perhaps I shrugged you away when you tried to hug me.

I probably over-dramatized everything, be it school, friendships...whatever and gave you the impression that you had never been in the same situation as I was.

I probably had to be told at least 20 times to do something - or where my things were, even though it wasn't your job to know that.

You probably won't be surprised that I'm getting my just desserts. Yes, I get the thrill of experiencing these very same things first-hand. Meanwhile, I quietly hope that my children will someday too as well.