What did I do wrong? I honestly have no idea. You welcomed me into your home and you were like a mother to me. We knew each other for so long and then you turned on me. It was some years ago but I still don’t understand. It still confuses me. The summer after I left, I was drunk one day on cheap red wine and I called you. I told you I loved you. You said you felt used but I don’t understand why. I paid you rent, I cleaned for you, I tried to help you. I offered more and you didn’t accept. If I drank all of your Dewar’s, I bought you more. Maybe you’re mad because I drank those bottles too. Maybe you’re mad because I didn’t take your word for it when I got engaged to someone you said was no good for me. I stayed at a hotel and a hostel while I was moving out of your home. I couldn’t stay with my fiance because we broke it off shortly after you cast me out. I don’t know how I became such an enemy to you. You were like a mother to me and I miss having you in my life. You met me off the train one time before I moved in with you, and you held my hand as we walked. We went to the biker bar and I almost got into a fight. It had something to do with the pinball game. Your friend stepped in and that was probably a good thing, because I probably would have gotten my ass kicked. I wasn’t afraid, I was ready to fight. You knew that about me, and you were grateful your friend intervened. We spent so much time together and did so many things. You read my tarot cards and saw my past, predicted my future, but didn’t you see this coming? Couldn’t you have prevented it? What did I do so bad that you were hurt so much that you cast me out like an enemy. I called you my mother. You were a hard woman who didn’t show much affection but you showed me love and you told me you loved me. I was there for you when your father died and we had only just met. You called me a collector of experiences. Isn’t that what writers are? Isn’t that what everyone does in a way when they’re young and trying to become a whole person? You weren’t a part of my collection, not after ten years, you were my mother and you cast me out. I know you’re getting older and one day you won’t be walking the Earth with me any longer and you’ll be gone. And we’ll have never mended things. I called you once and told you I loved you and asked why. I wrote you a letter a year later and told you I was doing well, you never responded and that was the end. I opened the door, I was willing to apologize, and did apologize for something I didn’t do, or for something I didn’t know I did. I was willing to do anything to have my mother back but you were cold and denied me. There was nothing I could do but accept that, so I did and moved on like you were dead. I only think of you now and then because I’m skilled at accepting things, skilled at moving on. I think of you, and wish you were still a part of my life but I accept that you chose your own path. I mourned you long ago as if you were dead, though every now and then I remember you. If by some chance you come across this online, and happen to read it, you will know the person I am behind the pen name. You will know because you will recognize our story. And if that happens, I want you to know that I still love you, and I hope your world is filled with happiness. I want nothing but the best for you, my mother.