Dear Mom,
Wow. On this one, I’m pretty clueless as of where to start. (A/N: Opening all my letters like this is really getting old… -.-) You’ve been with me for every moment of my thirteen years, and even loved me for all of them. And no ordinary person can do that, seeing as I’ve done some pretty stupid stuff. Well, not TOTALLY stupid stuff, since I’m not the type of teenager to drink, smoke, do drugs, or sleep around. You and Dad raised me better than that. But I’ll admit I haven’t exactly made life as easy as possible for you.
You probably know more about me than anyone else in the family does. You know how I tear through books in a matter of days (or sometimes hours – then again, who doesn’t know about that? Haha…). Even though I push you away a lot, sometimes all I want is a hug. See, since I’m a teenager, I get mood swings and all that fun stuff. I can’t really control it, much less explain it. So don’t worry if you’re confused with my feelings – so am I.
You’ve always been there to offer advice and to give me a hug and to tell me how much you love me. At the moment, you're at the hospital for pancreatitis, and your surgery is in the morning, and without you here at home, it doesn't feel like home. It's quiet and dark and we're cooking for ourselves. *giggle* When you come home, I know everything will resume as normal, and for that I'm grateful. Thank you. <3 I have absolutely no idea what I’d do without you.
Always,
Marissa.
…
Dear Dad,
You’re my hero. Your knowledge of the Bible, your wisdom and advice, your sense of humor, and your sense of when to back off because it’s a girl thing (and the way you occasionally quote Snape just to make me happy, even though you hate Harry Potter) are all beyond admirable. You spend our money very carefully, and even though we don’t have money for all the things we want, I know you’re just making sure we have everything we need.
You’re really good at explaining Lost to me when I get (no pun intended) lost. My blonde little brain gets easily confused, y’know. It’s funny when you sing along my favorite songs on the radio, going intentionally off-key to make me laugh. You’re great at teasing my friends when they come over (and thankfully they put up with you and still want to come over!) You’ve always supported my decisions as long as I could rationally explain them. I love listening to your sermons, and since I’m your daughter, I don’t mind much being labeled the “preacher’s daughter.” You’ve always been there for me, and someday I want to be just like you.
Proud to call myself your daughter,
Marissa.
