Dear Mum,
I'm writing this, intending that you never read it. Words have always been my forte, as you know very well, but I can't write letters. Especially letters of thanks, and of graditude.
I don't know if I would be the person I am today if it weren't for you. You gave birth to me, fed and clothed me. Bathed me, stayed up with me when I couldn't sleep. You framed the piece of paper I first wrote my name on and you never made me feel bad if there was a word I didn't know.
You have always, since birth, encouraged me to do my best, and never insulted me about anything. You taught me to cook, to sew and to look after myself. You taught me numbers (it's not your fault I don't get them. You taught them well- I failed) and you taught me words.
You cried when I cried, laughed when I laughed and read when I wrote. You were always there to help me if I was stuck, and you have always inspired me when in a painful bout of writers block. You understand how I feel when the words don't come, and you praise me when they do.
You give me plotlines by doing nothing, and you give me words by speaking with your magical voice.
Mum, it is because of you that I am me. Because of you that I write. Because of you that I read.
I love you mum,
Rosie.
