Thank you, Mom.

Sarah Miller
MSMU Class of 2026

(10/2022) Dear Mom,

First off, I want to preface this letter with how much you mean to me. Although the yearning for teenage independence floods my thoughts sometimes, so does making you smile. I have pure, fond memories of cuddling on the couch together while watching the Berenstain Bears. When we were all snuggled up in our pajamas at 7:30 pm on the dot every night, and it was our last episode together because ‘I have to go to bed soon. It’s a school night.’ I wish that we could watch the Berenstain Bears every night together. Maybe we could change our nightly show, the Berenstain Bears, because Law and Order is getting old, and I miss Momma Bear.

I always miss you, even if you think I don’t. It was difficult starting here, not because of the usual college adjustments, but because of seeing Route 15 every day. It cuts through the campus so perfectly that anytime I walk to class, I see the highway, and that highway always leads me home; but I promised myself that I wouldn’t go a lot yet. I need to stick it out. Although I feel adjusted now, I would do anything to sleep in my own bed and get some nice shower pressure.

I am blessed with the best mom ever, which is so cheesy and overused—but I know I have the best one. You filled the mother and father role for me at pivotal points in my life, and I hope that I can raise my children exactly how you raised me—the New Jersey mom way. I hope I have your qualities, especially your resilience and caring heart. You gave us so much growing up, and tangible things aren’t even the most important gift; it is having you as a constant person.

I did not realize how much of a homebody I was until I thought I wanted to go to college in Florida. I remember that time so clearly: we were sitting in a rental car in the parking lot of a pizza shop, and I cried in your arms because I knew how much I would miss you in the few months I had to leave. Although we lost five hundred dollars in college deposits, this is when I knew you accepted me and learned that although hard a decision, I would make the right one. Decisions can be remade, but times with my mom can’t, and I am happy that I decided not to be a stranger. I have enjoyed coming home for the weekend I did, and seeing you. Decompressing felt nice. It is a feeling that I know I will forever cherish, because seeing you always makes me feel at home—because you are my home.

When I was deconstructing my room the month before I left, I came across some memorabilia. First off, I found Lammy and Sharky, the iconic duo. When I was younger, I asked you, "Mom, is it okay if I sleep with stuffed animals for the rest of my life?" You responded, "Of course, baby, your older sister still does," which made me laugh. Honestly, I cannot see myself not sleeping with stuffed animals. I probably will be married and sleeping with them still. It is just so comfortable and warm. It makes growing up easier because I know I will still have that piece of childhood with me, although I fluctuate my stuffed animals along the way. Currently, I am sleeping at college with a pink weighted dinosaur, a bumblebee squishmallow, and, of course, the New York Giants pillow pet. I will never let him go, though, because the Giants need all of the help that they can get. I am praying for a winning season this year. Secondly, I found a copy of The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein in my room. This is our favorite book ever. I will have this book displayed in my classroom for all of my kids to read every year, because of its effect on me when you read it to me. It helped me grow up and realize that the world doesn’t revolve around me. In reality, when you are eight, something you have in common with every eight-year-old around you is that they are all selfish—but isn’t that one of the joys of being a child? Only thinking about yourself for a few years, until reality and priorities sink in. Honestly, Mom, maybe I will even make it a part of my curriculum because, for high schoolers, it could be a good lesson too. I will absolutely think about that.

You are my giving tree. You always provide for me, even when it is particularly hard to give. Especially when you worked your old job after dad died. I know that we were in a harder space financially, but you got us through it. You always do. You were my rock and still are. That time was hard on all of us, but you helped me grow in that time and provided me with everything I needed and wanted; and for that, I am forever thankful. I know that dad is thankful for you, too, because of how great you are raising your two daughters. Thank you, mom.

As I wrote this letter to you, Sara Smile by Hall and Oates started playing. You always say that you hear this song whenever you think of me, and now when I hear it, I always think about you, too.

I love you so much, Mom, and I hope York is treating you well. You really need to take time for yourself and stop working so hard. I worry about you sometimes. Maybe go to the beach for the weekend or come walk through the Grotto with me. You always tell me how beautiful it will be in the fall here. When the weather starts getting crisp, I expect to see you.

I love you, Mom, to the moon and back,

Boo