You know...the "miracle" child? the younger one who was spoiled for awhile? then suddenly reprimanded for it? the one who cured your lupus but caused your mental breakdown? the coddled one? who then was abruptedly asked to grow up far too young?
...now she's a little confused as to where she stands.
Dear Parents, please grow up?
Dear Dad, can we talk? I don't want to learn Swahili or become a weather girl. I would, however, like to know your story. You made life hard, you know. Yes, I did get your postcards from St. Kitts. No, I don't want to meet your art gallery friends.
Dear Mom, you're my mom. I'm your daughter. And yes, I will bring you breakfast in bed every Sunday for as long as I can. And no, those dishes aren't washed because they are 'soaking'. And yes, I will tape your soap opera tonight. And no, I'm not deaf. I love you.
Sincerely,
not the messenger pigeon
1 comment:
Dearest Flavia
How I love you <3
Post a Comment