Thanks mum, for being my mother. Thanks for enduring all the most boring aspects of parenthood, and the most terrifying aspects. Thanks for living through all my defiant ages. Thanks for watching all those 15+ movies with me when I was eleven, and telling me when to close my eyes during a scary scene. Thanks for listening to U2 when you were cleaning the apartment. Thanks for that time you bought the princess magazine I wouldn’t stop bugging you about, only to throw it in the trash when we got out of the store. I’m not sure if the motive was feminist or if you were just trying to show me I couldn’t pressure you into buying me stuff, but it makes quite a nice childhood anecdote. Thanks for always seeing me as, and treating me like, an individual. Finally, on a more serious note: Thanks for standing between my dad and quite a lot of potential mistakes.
The more my dad tells me about his past and my childhood, the more I appreciate the sort of parent you were. How mature and wellbalanced you actually were, considering you had barely made it out of your teens when you had me (and especially considering I don’t think any one of those qualities came naturally to you at the time). But I’m also grateful you kept that crazy moron (which he was at the time) in my life. You sort of took on the responsibility of a single parent, without getting to make all the decisions or take all the credit. Thanks for that. Thanks for doing a lot of things without getting any credit for it and thanks for not letting that make you bitter. I think right now that’s actually one of the things I’m most grateful for, because I know bitterness can very easily be passed on through generations. Thanks for not putting that burden on me.
Thanks for trying to keep the flaws or anxieties you do have from passing on to me.
Thanks for letting me share them in other ways, by talking about them.
Thanks for talking to me, a lot.
Thanks for a lot.