Dear Emily,
As my firstborn, you are the joy of my life—the little girl we wished for, the light that brightens our days. It feels like just yesterday you were a toddler, chasing after the cat. Now, here you are, sitting confidently behind the wheel of my SUV with your learner’s permit in hand, ready to master a three-point turn. You’re excelling in your honors classes and nurturing your incredible talent for singing.
Reflecting on my own teenage years, I remember thinking that my parents were overly strict. Until recently, I would have argued that they were. The curfews, the limitations on my activities, the constant inquiries about my whereabouts and friends—these were all sources of frustration. But now, as a parent myself, I’ve come to understand that their strictness came from fear. And now, I share that same fear.
You’re on the brink of becoming an independent young woman, but you’re not quite there yet. At 16, you still find joy in singing Disney songs and cuddling with your childhood blanket. You laugh wholeheartedly at your friends’ jokes, and occasionally, you still seek comfort in my embrace, even if you no longer fit quite as well.
What awaits you in this vast world? It’s filled with unknowns, and as your parent, I set boundaries to keep you safe. You may see these limits as restrictions on your freedom. When you want to ride with a teenage driver, I worry about other motorists on the road. When you wish to spend time on a boat with your boyfriend, it’s not you I doubt; it’s the unpredictability of others on the water. And those parties at homes where we don’t know the parents? There are all kinds of situations that could arise, including unsupervised environments where poor choices could be made.
It’s not a lack of trust; it’s concern for your well-being. You’ve faced challenges that would overwhelm many adults, yet you’ve displayed resilience that is remarkable. Your ability to confront difficulties, learn from them, and grow is inspiring. Your empathy and kindness shine brightly, and I admire the depth of your heart.
I want to protect you, wrapping you in a blanket of love and safety. I wish I could shield you from the world’s harsh realities. When you were little and fell at the playground, you came running to me for comfort. Now, my worries have shifted to what or who you might turn to for solace.
While I want to protect you, I also want you to grow, learn, and experience life. I genuinely want you to have fun and cherish time with your friends. However, it’s hard to let go. When you plan a sleepover, I often wish you’d come home first so I can take a moment to see you and reassure myself that you are okay.
I recognize that you’re not yet a full-grown adult, and I must remind myself of this when your reactions don’t align with my expectations. It’s easy to feel unappreciated at times. But I must remember that I don’t do this for acknowledgment; I do it because I love you unconditionally as your mother.
In just two years, you’ll embark on your college journey. The thought of you leaving fills me with both pride and sorrow. I won’t see you get off the school bus or check in on you during lazy Saturday mornings. You will be off starting a new chapter in your life, full of fresh experiences and personal growth.
I want you to embrace adulthood, discover new passions, and challenge yourself. Yet, part of me longs for the days when your father and I were your primary source of knowledge and comfort. Sometimes, I wish for the option of you taking online college courses from home—after all, who wouldn’t want to attend in pajamas?
Know this, Emily: everything I do comes from a place of love. When I set a curfew, it’s not out of spite; it’s to ease my mind, knowing you’re safe at home. When I inquire about your schoolwork, it’s because I want you to reach your full potential. I don’t expect perfection, but I hope you put forth your best effort, all because of the deep, instinctual love I have for you.
One of my father’s favorite songs was “Teach Your Children” by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young. It moved him to tears, and now, as a mother, it brings tears to my eyes too. I’ll leave you with some of its poignant lyrics that capture my sentiments:
“Teach your children well,
Their father’s hell did slowly go by,
And feed them on your dreams;
The one they pick’s, the one you’ll know by…”
So, my daughter, look at me, sigh, and know that I love you dearly.