I have never been able to express my anger or concern over life’s problem in words. But I have always had the ability to write them down. I don’t know how many notes, letters or e-mails I have written to my children and my husband over the past 25 years. With the aid of cell phones and computers, the art of letter writing has become all but absolute. However, my daughter came to me some months ago and showed me a note I had written her when she was 15 and had done something I was so angry and disappointed in that I couldn’t talk to her. She showed it to me and said, “Mom. Do you remember when you wrote this letter to me?” I thought for a moment then told her yes. “Lucy, disappointed me last week. I rewrote the letter in my own handwriting. After she read it she started to cry and came to me with the note. She said she was going to keep it forever.” In the note I had written. “I remember when I was about your age and thought my parents were the meanest parents on the face of the earth. I am glad I have grown to be the same mother as my mother was.” She gave me a hug and kissed my cheek. “Mom. I’m glad I am now the meanest mother on earth.” …”I love you Baby.”, I whispered as she walked away.


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