I'm not going to see my mom on Mother's Day. That's pretty awful of me, probably, but I have this job that requires me, so while my mom will be coming to the city I live in to see my brother and his family, she won't get to see me. This means, in all actuality, I won't really be able to give her a present. At least not on the day. That's why I'm writing this. As a present to her. And before you get all "Way to get her a present that doesn't cost any money, cheapskate," think about this - there's nothing more valuable to me than my words. Money isn't everything, Ebenezer.
But now you've got me off track.
Mom, you and dad made me into quite the weird person. Thank you for that. I'm opinionated and timid, loud and quiet, happy and sad, sometimes all at once. It's because of the support from both of you that I'm able to do anything that I do.
When I was little, I wanted nothing more than to play basketball professionally for the Pistons. It didn't matter that I had crooked teeth, big glasses, and was awkwardly white. I was going to do it. You never told me I couldn't. You came to my games. You cheered me on.
And when reality caught up with me, you helped me move onto the next thing. And the next thing. And the next.
No dreams are too outlandish for you. I still have such high aspirations. You might not get most of the things I write, but you read them anyway. Because I wrote them.
Because you never told me I couldn't.