Dear mother,

     I don't think you'll ever get the hang of this job. No not your job at BAMC or your job at the bar; I'm talking about you job as a mother. You don't know what it means to be a mother. I mean, yes you've gone through the pain of child birth and raising my brother and myself as little ones, but once we were old enough to live on our own you took advantage of that. When I say "old enough to live on our own" I meant at the age that we could talk well enough, make our own food in the microwave, and knew that we had each other to count on.
     In the third grade I had a cell phone when no one else did, do you remember why? It was so I would always have a way to contact you; from the times Michael and I played outside to the times you'd go out and party so late. I can't believe I grew up thinking that it was normal to be left at home like that. How old was I mom? I think I was seven or eight which means Michael must have been ten or eleven. That's the prime time for you to leave your kids at home alone, right? So you teach them that it's completely normal and they just go a long with it.
     I remember a few years after we moved back to Texas. I had been at Tania's house and they had dinner at six. It felt weird to be there because I never had dinner before 8 o'clock. Dinner was whenever you got home. If you decided to cook, it was even later.
     I look back at our life and cannot even imagine how it was to be with you and Papa. I can't imagine you guys ever sharing a kiss or a hug or even a friendly embrace that was not a complete facade...
     But basically what I'm getting at, mom, is that you haven't been a mother to me in so long. You've been an adult friend who acted like a parent when something went wrong. You have been there to provide me a shelter and options of food. You make fun of me and mock me like it doesn't affect me but you're just a bully. You're controlling and manipulative, cunning yet idiotic, and most notably---money hungry.
     I'm not a check that you can use for your silly business transactions, I'm a person; your daughter even. I deserve more respect than you give and because you decline to give me that, I hate you. I loathe you and your stupid decisions...
     But you're always my mother, and for that I love you.

Sincerely,

Passíon Leon