To Mom & Dad

Dear Mom and Dad,

Thank you for letting me pursuing my dreams. I know that most of my dreams are not yours, and I fully understand that you only want what you think is the best for me. Many times, we don’t see eye to eye on things because of this. However, in the end you let me take my own decisions over several things. I know it was not easy for you. That is why I really appreciate it when you did it anyway.

Mom, Dad,

I’m starting a life as an author now. Still struggling with it, but I am an author nonetheless. And you know what? It’s all because of you. Yes. Because of both of you.

Remember that time when you came home from work with plastic letters in your hand, Dad? I was four at that time. Mom spent a lot of her precious time playing those plastic letters with me night after night, hoping I would pick up a few things from the activity. I knew you both were worried. Big Sis could already read things when she was four–at the same age, I was still stumbling over letters. I was not as bright as her. But, after a year, I could catch up to her, couldn’t I? All because of you. Both of you.

I couldn’t remember the exact moment I acquired the ability to read. But, I remembered that both of you seemed relieved. Not long after that, Dad started to bring a Donald Duck comic magazine home. Buying a copy each time a new one came up. Buying a different copy of children magazine for Big Sis, too. Dad didn’t have much money to spend at that time, so he started borrowing some children books from the boss’ kids–most of them were comics–for us to read. Sometimes, when you have time, Dad, you read a children book in English, then retelling me the whole story pages by pages. You tried to make us love the activity of reading, didn’t you, Dad? And it worked really well. It worked even better as I started drawing and writing my own stories after reading books.

Remember that time when I was still in the elementary school and I told you both that I wanted to be an author? You were shocked. You were so much against the idea. You didn’t think I would be able to make a living out of that job. You asked me to find another dream to pursue. Telling me that I still have a lot of time to think about it and perhaps changing my mind. And I did, too.

I started to dream about being a psychologist when I was in junior high. Treating people with mental diseases. Helping others to get things out of their chests. But, I never lost my fondness to reading and writing. The more you tried to talk me out of it, the farther I hid the dream in my heart–not showing you any of the work of fictions I made, and showed them to my friends instead. The latter action exposed me to the world of praises and criticism for the first time. Giving me the knowledge of what’s good and what’s needed to be improved in my writings. All because of you. Because of you rejection of my passion in it.

Now, after years of studying, I finally got my degree in Psychology. Not enough for me to be a psychologist, but decent enough for me to look at people from different perspectives. You asked me to get a job. A decent one that would enable me to pay the rents and other expenses I make. I chose to get a part-time job in helping others instead. Not enough to cover all my living expenses, but enough to give me decent time writing–struggling in my way to be a professional author. And I have to admit that I was thrilled to find out that you were not against that idea. You let me take it. You let me walk in the path you once resented.

Thank you, Mom. Thank you, Dad.

You might never discover my works–especially the ones written in English–for I would never show them to you–due to the fact that the stories are about love between girls. Chuckle. But, I really appreciate this. I really appreciate everything you’ve done to and for me.

I love you, Mom. I love you, Dad. And I will always try to make you proud of me–your youngest, and most stubborn, daughter.

 

Regards,
DeNight

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