I have hidden things from you that you simply do not need to know.
Why would I want to break my mother’s heart?
I could feel the fear in your voice when I told you I was at my first protest
But you couldn’t tell me not to do it.
You didn’t have the heart for it.
I felt the stress overwhelm you… A shift of tone was all I needed.
Thank you for carrying me an entire nine months and loving me, unconditionally, the other nineteen years and three months.
I promise I’m not throwing my life away.
I’m figuring it out as I go along.
We have learned so much from each other in our time apart.
I will never forget when we would garden, nap, cook, watch novelas, sit and eat paletas.
Everything reminds me of you.
I think “What would my mom do?”
“She would like this.”
My rule to live by has been: If I am disappointed to tell you, that probably means I shouldn’t do it. I know myself better than anyone. I have to pave my own path, but your opinion matters to me because I respect you.
You said you would always be proud of me.
Thank you for believing in me.
I wish you would call or text sometimes too. It takes two to tango.
But I understand how you work… You’re my madre, but you have your own life. I am not offended by it.
You have told me before you don’t want to bother me, but how could you ever bother me?
Your motherly love is everything to me.
When I introduced my second poem this past Wednesday, I explained to the audience that I’ve been missing my mom and yearning for my hometown.
I hope to see many more of your birthdays.
I will see you soon.
I will always remain your little girl.
Catch you later, alligator.