Dear Mom

Dear Mom,

I was reading an article the other day by Rob Lowe about sending his son off to college. After I bawled my eyes out, I decided to write this letter to you. I wasn’t crying because I was imagining dropping my own kids off at college one day, although now I know that I will be entirely unfit for that experience, I was crying because it had so many similarities to when you and dad first dropped me off at Tennessee. In that moment reading his piece, I think for the first time, I fully reflected on what that experience must’ve been like for you and dad.

To be honest, some days it still feels like yesterday. I’ll never forget. We packed up the car and with tears in my eyes, I waved goodbye to Alex and our house as we pulled out of the driveway, setting forth on an 800 mile journey to what would be my new home sweet home, Rocky Top Tennessee. 

Although sad to leave home and my friends, I was excited for the new adventure that lied ahead; a roommate, new friends, an opportunity with the basketball team and all of the unknown that is going away to college.

Upon arriving to Tennessee, we spent a couple of days meeting and greeting and getting things prepared before move in day approached. Move in day, how could we forget that gem? It was hot as if the devil himself was walking the earth and I was blessed to be assigned to the dorm building with no AC. You and dad worked your butts off, sweating away and toting all of my things up the stairs to the second floor. Meanwhile, you were on a mission to get me settled in like only a mother could. Hot, hungry and exhausted, we got the job done.

With you guys heading out in the morning and me staying in my new dorm that night, it came time to part ways. Excited that one of the older basketball girls was already there, ready to show me around town, I stood strong. We said our goodbyes, gave each other our hugs and held back most of the tears.  (Secretly, I planned to call you guys in the morning before you left to come say bye one more time, but I broke my phone that night.) 

Then came the final moment that is forever etched in my memory. Just as I was walking out of the dorm, you and dad were driving by and there you were in the front seat, sobbing. You unrolled your window and through your cries mumbled, “Bye Jussy, we love you.”

I can’t remember if I held it together then, but I know in my homesick moments, that memory always opened the flood gates the quickest. At the time though, I still didn’t fully understand the depth of your tears. Sure, I had left home, but home wasn’t going anywhere, I’d be home for Christmas, home for summer and so on. 

But you, as my mom, knew differently. You knew your little girl had left home for good, she was out to see the world. Sure she’d be back to visit, but that wasn’t home anymore. She was becoming an adult, on her own, and would be mostly taking care of herself now.

Well mom, I’m writing this to tell you that’s not true. Home is not so much a place, as it is a comfort and it’s a comfort that I can only ever get from you, my mom. Home is that phone call or FaceTime anytime I'm sick, upset, worried or confused, that even from one million miles away, never fails to make me feel better. Home is that escape that's only a flight away where I know I can be fed, catered to and cared for like no other human can possibly provide. And to this day, there’s no place quite like home. 

So mom, I just want to say thanks for dropping me off at college that day. Thank you for unselfishly supporting my dreams and encouraging me to get out and experience the world. Thank you for always being my biggest fan and my biggest supporter. And most importantly, thanks for always keeping home, home.

You have no idea what I feel like I owe to you, but just know even though I won’t be moving back “home” anytime soon, your baby girl will always be your baby girl and I need you now as much as I ever have.

I love you!

Jussy