Example 1: From a mom, heartfelt, about one page
413 words
Dear Mija,
It is your wedding morning, and I am sitting here trying to find words that are big enough. I don't think they exist. But I wanted you to have something in my own handwriting, something you can keep.
I keep thinking about you at six years old. I had worked all night, and you wanted to surprise me. You brought me breakfast in bed: a bowl of Froot Loops with orange juice instead of milk. You carried it so slowly, with both hands, so proud. I ate every bite. I have never had a better meal.
That was you, even then. You were always taking care of me. All those years I worked nights, you became my right hand. You packed your brothers' lunches. You left me notes on the fridge. I don't think I ever told you how much those notes held me up.
And I remember the day your Purdue letter came. You ran down the street in your socks to the hospital parking lot, just to show me before I went in to work. I will see that picture in my mind for the rest of my life. You decided at fourteen that you would be an engineer, and you did it. You were the first in our family to finish college. That is how stubborn you are, in the very best way.
You are tender, too. Every Sunday you call your grandmother in Guadalajara and speak to her in Spanish, even when the words come slowly. And every day you call me on your drive to work. Those calls are one of the great gifts of my life.
Now I want you to hear this. You don't have to take care of everyone anymore. It is your turn to be taken care of.
Ethan seems to know that. The first night he came to dinner, he did all the dishes without being asked. Then he asked me for my pozole recipe. I knew right then. He is gentle and patient. He makes you laugh until you snort, and he gets you to slow down. Thank you, Ethan, for loving my girl so well.
My wish for you both is simple. Eat dinner together, always, even if it's only cereal. And one small piece of advice: say sorry first, even when you're only half wrong. It works every time.
I am so happy and so proud I can barely stand it.
Te quiero con todo mi corazón,
Mamá
What the writer told Toastful to get this letter
- Writer
- Lucía, parent to my daughter
- Relationship
- I'm Sofia's mom. She's my only daughter and my middle child, between two brothers. I worked night shifts as a nurse for most of her childhood, and she became my right hand, packing her brothers' lunches and leaving me notes on the fridge. We're very close; she calls me every day on her drive to work.
- What works
- She's stubborn in the best way. She decided at 14 that she'd be an engineer, and she was the first person in our family to finish college. She's tender, too: she still calls her grandmother in Guadalajara every Sunday and speaks to her in Spanish, even though she's out of practice.
- About today
- I'm so happy and so proud I can barely stand it. I want her to know she doesn't have to take care of everyone anymore. It's her turn to be taken care of.
- Stories
- When she was six, she wanted to surprise me after a night shift, so she made me 'breakfast': a bowl of Froot Loops with orange juice instead of milk, carried to my bed very slowly with both hands. I ate every bite. And when her acceptance letter from Purdue came, she ran down the street to the hospital parking lot in her socks to show me before I went in to work.
- Partner Thoughts
- Ethan is gentle and patient. The first time he came to dinner, he did all the dishes without being asked and then asked me for my pozole recipe. He makes her laugh until she snorts, and he gets her to slow down.
- Wishes
- I hope they always eat dinner together, even if it's cereal. My advice: say sorry first, even when you're only half wrong.
- Extras
- I call her 'mija.' Sign off: 'Te quiero con todo mi corazón, Mamá.'