By Macie Williams

Dear Mom,

Macie and her mom | Photo courtesy of Macie Williams

If you could see me now.
You’d be ‘proud of me,’ they say.
You’d be proud of ‘the young woman I have become.’
You’d be proud of the strength I have shown over the years, of finding out who I want to be, of how determined I have become.
Everything I do, everything I have done, is so that you would be proud of me. I know I wasn’t always the easiest child to raise, but I do think your patience, love and discipline paid off.
Four years have gone by since you passed away. They say it gets easier, but when is that? I was so angry when you left because nobody would ever understand me the way you did. But I learned that I just need to surround myself with the right people to help me through the hard times. And yet, I can’t tell you the number of times in these last nine months when I felt alone. I’ve wanted to pick up the phone and call you.
I wanted to cry to you when I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. I figured out what I had wanted for so long wasn’t meant for me. I wanted to hear your words of encouragement when I wasn’t sure if I’d make it through my first semester of college without completely losing who I am. I wanted to feel your arms embrace me in a warm hug and hear you tell me you loved me when I was feeling like I was less than nothing.
It was moments like those when a girl needed her mother. And I’m not angry at you for leaving, at least not anymore, I just wish I could turn to you and tell you about all these amazing things that have happened for me since you left.

Photo courtesy of Macie Williams

I think you’d be proud of them.
If you could see me now.
You’d brag about my acceptance into somewhere as prestigious as Baylor University, saying “I always knew you could do it, Mace!”
But you’d be sad your baby girl was moving across the country. Although, if you were still here, I probably wouldn’t have considered leaving Arizona. I would have wanted to be by your side.
I got published a few months ago for the first time! I know you would go around telling everyone at work about it. I never thought that I would be in a field where getting published would be something that was so important, but you probably did. A mother always knows best. You used to always say that I had a knack for writing, that it was in my blood because I had a mother who was an amazing writer. Although journalism never crossed my mind, I love telling stories. Changing my major to journalism is probably the best decision I have made since embracing my natural hair.
I remember you always saying how much you loved my curls. You’d say: “I wish I had hair like yours,” but I always wanted your hair. I loved your soft waves and how your hair was almost model-like when it would blow in the wind. I wanted to be a mini-you. It took some time, but I’ve fallen in love with my natural hair,
and I’m working on getting it healthy again. I’m working on getting back those curls that you loved so much.
I’ve surrounded myself with people who make me want to be a better person. Elena and Hunter, my closest friends at Baylor, are wild. We’re like the Three Musketeers. We go on late night H.E.B food runs. We laugh until we cry and cry until we laugh.
I really don’t think I would have been able to make it this far if it hadn’t been for the people I choose to surround myself with.
If you could see me now.
I know you’d be proud.