Dear Ma

I didn't write on your birthday, nor the day after, and I didn't make it out to see you until the 3rd this year. I apologize for that, but there was some social anxiety stuffs going on with me at the doctor's on Thursday. Nothing big, but I take after you in that I've always hated doctors' offices or any real medical facility. Big shock, I know! :P

Anyway, I know I babbled at you for a couple of hours on Friday, but I forgot to tell you that I love you. Kinda weird since I constantly tell people that, but for some reason I forgot, and I'm sorry. I hope you know it anyway.

Every day I was in Sweden, I wanted to call you and tell you about it. Same as I did in Scotland and when I visited London and Blackpool before that. I wanted to call you from the airport in New York to tell you I could see taxis outside. I...don't even really know what to say. I just want you to know that sometimes I miss you so much it hurts to breathe.

I'm okay, it's just really easy not to think about it most of the time. Then September rolls around and all I can see is that horribly ugly green carpet and all of it just comes flooding back.

I love you, Mom. I always have and I always will, and I'm sorry I couldn't take better care of you when you were here. I wish you still were. I miss my best friend.

You were incredible and I'm so lucky to have known you in the limited time and capacity that I did. I hope you don't despise me completely. I'm not great, but I try every day to be a better person so you can be proud of me.

Eskimo!
H