Long essay 1 - Draft

A mother’s love and a daughter’s growth

Alessia D’Anna

ENG*4017*01

October 2, 2013

 

            “Hey Ale, I am having surgery Wednesday but we don’t know anything yet so I don’t want you to worry,” my mother told me over the phone on Friday, September 30, 2013. Immediately I felt panic and worry rush over me as I tried my hardest not to think of the worse possible case, but that’s all I could think of. That’s me, always worried that something bad is going to happen to the people I love, always afraid that one day those who mean the most will no longer be able to hug or kiss me, because I fear they will be taken away in the worst possible way.

            My mother, Francesca D’Anna, as cliché as this sounds, is the strongest person I know, my idol and the light of my life. The bond between a mother and daughter can never be compared to any other relationship. Although I have always felt this way about my mother, I cannot lie and say that our relationship has always been great, because in all honesty, it has not been. In our relationship we have had laughs, cries, dishonesty, truths, extreme hardships and pure happiness. Each of these emotions has brought on learning experiences, for the both of us.

            “Mom, can you just let me talk? I have things I need to say and you are being so unfair by not listening!”

            “I don’t have to do anything you ask me to because I’m YOUR mother, I tell you what to do and you listen to me, no the other way around. I don’t care what you have to say!” As I turned to walk away I heard my mother stomping behind me, “Don’t you ever walk away from me while I speak to you, get your shit and get out!” Then after some yelling, throwing of clothes, and an extreme amount of tears on my end, I actually left.

            At the moment of walking out of my house and into my car with a toothbrush, one pair of under wear, leggings, a sweater and shoes numerous emotions fell over me. Panic, regret, anger, sadness and fear are just a few. “What do I do now,” I said as I drove off. After spending a night at my boyfriends house my father called me and asked me to come home and bring my things back into my bedroom but for the next few days to keep to myself and not speak to my mother. So I did. I woke up, went to work, school, boyfriends and then home to sleep and was completely isolated from my family for almost a week.

            Walking into my house one night after class around 9 p.m. one night I decided, now or never. I walked upstairs into my parents bed room and simply said, “Mom, can you come upstairs? I want to talk.” My mother got up and quietly followed me upstairs to my room.

“Ok, I’ll talk first. Please let me say everything I have to, then you will speak with no interruptions on how you are feeling and finally we are going to resolve this one way or another.”

            About thirty minutes passed and I had never felt closer to her than I did in that moment. “Do you think I wanted you to leave, Alessia?” she asked,  “you are my child, I gave birth to you. There is no one in this world I love more than you and your sister, everything I do is for you two and when things like this happen, trust me when I say it hurts me so much more than it hurts you.” For once I felt like she truly understood me as a human, not just her child. And I understood her as a caring woman and friend, not just my mother. We both sat quietly as the other spoke and took in every word and compromised on ways to make us both happy and to fix our relationship and continue to make it better so extremity of this argument never happens again. We both were aware that there will be times when we bud-heads and disagree, but talking through these situations is what will keep us moving.

            Throughout my growing years, changing from a child to a pre-teen, to a teen and then into a young adult my mother and I have had countless arguments, trust me that is not the first. Some arguments occurred over things I did which she was unhappy about, some over friends she did not trust but I wanted so badly to have them apart of my life as a teen, because lets face it as a teenager you think without friends your world is over. Other fights happened over boys, some over my younger sister, and that list can go on.

            I am the eldest daughter therefore being the first child my parents were learning how to be parents since the day I was born. I was the child they were stricter with as a young girl, the child who did things first. Got in trouble first, liked boys first, cried over friends first, got my period first, went through the bitchy teen phase first, graduated high school first, got a job first and now soon, I will be their first child to be graduating college.

            I remember being in middle school like it was yesterday. Middle school years are the years you learn how to be a bit more independent, prepare yourself for high school and try to find out who you really are. I wanted my mom to let me have more freedom and make my own decisions, I had no idea what those decisions would be but I just wanted them to be mine! I was an immature girl who had no idea what real life is like but because I was an official teen, I thought I could handle anything. I was invincible, or so I thought.

            “Mom, seriously why are you making me wear this? It’s a red shirt, red pants and black shoes. It’s hideous; everyone is going to make fun of me!” “No one is going to make fun of you, it looks good, it’s picture day and I have the last word so get dressed and get in the car.” Boy, did I have an attitude that day. I gave my mother an attitude all day long, when she was just trying to be nice to me and be friendly, but I was so furious I wanted nothing to do with her.

Throughout middle school more arguments occurred such as that day and although I never meant to hurt my mother, I can now admit that I was the biggest bitch at that lousy age and when I think back about it, I truthfully can’t blame my mom for being strict with me, making me listen to her, etc. The way she treated me as a younger girl is the reason why she treats me so differently now.

At the current age of twenty-one, a few days away from twenty-two, I have matured into a full time worker and student, striving towards new possibilities and making new memories. I have turned into the woman I am because of my parents, especially from looking up to my mother and trying to be even half of the woman she is. The amount of trust my mother has in me has been built from these arguments, fall outs and repairs. The trust was gone for a while, a couple of times, but it’s back and better than ever.

“Oh my god mom you will never guess what happened!” “Mom what should I wear out tonight?” “Mom, guess what tommy did for me today?” “Mom I don’t feel well please make me feel better, somehow.” “Mom do you want to go to the mall or watch a movie tonight” “Mom, whats for dinner I am starving?” “Hey mom, I love you.” My mother is the root of my world. Her ways of raising me have taught me how to be independent, strong, build relationships, be a woman, love myself and other, and never to take anyone’s shit.

“All that I am or hope to be I owe to my angel mother,” a quote from Abraham Lincoln. Due to past experiences of losing loved ones and my knowledge that life does not stop for anyone, I know there will a day, hopefully very far from today, when my mother and I will not be together. Until then, I plan to spend my days making her happy and proud. Although she does everything in her world for me, she does not know that everything I do, is for her.