Epilogue: Maybe I’m Not Ready Yet

If you could tell five-year-old me she would still need her mom at the age of seventeen, she would never believe it. I’m not talking about the cry of “Mom!” that little me would utter from the next room when she needed help reaching the peanut butter jar on the top shelf. I’m talking about the mom that little me would cry for if she couldn’t sense even the tiniest fraction of her presence nearby. As I got older, I became more independent, which slowly made me realize I wouldn’t need my mom as much anymore. These days of independence felt so out of reach as a child. I never thought the time would actually come that I would have to go to the grocery store alone, drive myself places rather than being driven, and make my own phone calls. But it did come at a speed that felt faster than the summer months, and part of me will always miss the way things were when mom could do it all for me.

Now, at seventeen, as I prepare to go off to college and live on my own, I have started to reflect on whether I am actually ready to do life without her in the next room. It seems that everyone around me has it all figured out, and that everyone is so excited for this freedom, this time to live away from home without their parents around. Not me, though. I don’t have it all figured out. I don’t need her help reaching the top shelf anymore. I don’t cry when she leaves the room anymore, but I do panic when she doesn’t answer the phone or is a few minutes late. I don’t need her to tuck me in and read me a story at night, but I do need to hear her calming voice whenever something is wrong. I don’t need her to be by my side every second of the day, but I do still need her, and that feeling has never gone away. 

People say that at a certain age, you become “too cool” for your parents. But that was never the case for me. In fact, it was the complete opposite; you would think I was codependent on my mother, like a baby in the first few months of its life. It’s not the little things, though, except on some occasions when I ask a stupid question, like I forgot how everything works, because why not. It’s the big things, like staying calm when everything around me is moving too fast, and reminding myself that I am perfect the way I am, even when others disagree. 

My mom is the most important person in my life. She always knows what to do, and no matter what is going on, she always has time for me. She is my safe place, a shoulder to cry on, and most importantly, my best friend. She just did everything right, which is why I constantly want to be around her. She is kind, humble, selfless, and loving. She puts everyone’s needs before her own, and, though I don’t know how, she does it all so well. Like every morning at 4:00 a.m., when she wakes up and gets everything done, as if it had all always already been that way. She doesn’t say a word because that's who she is, a silent good in the world, and most importantly, in my life. 

I didn’t realize until now how hard she actually works, and every day I get a little mad at myself for not thanking her more often. She is the sole reason everything in my life is how good it is, and I’ve never given her enough praise for it. She is my everything. I can’t and won’t ever be able to live without her. All of my best memories are with her. From the early childhood nights in bed where she sat singing to me until I fell asleep, to, these days, our late-night chats in her bedroom, laughing to the point of tears. There is no time I can think of without my mom. And honestly, I don’t ever want to think of one.

So, yes, if you told a slightly younger version of me she would still need her mom the same way she did as a kid, she wouldn’t believe it, but she would be so happy to know that this was the case, and she wouldn’t want it any other way. A mother’s love is something that no one else can recreate. Maybe that's why I still need her as much as I do.