Lately, Mom’s been acting weird, always asking where I’m going, who I’m with, when I’ll be back. We started fighting over small things, and I had no idea why she was making such a big deal.
One night, I came home late, and she was waiting for me, furious. We fought, and the next morning, my car was gone. When I asked her, she said, “I took it. You’ll get it back when you start acting like you deserve it.” I was LIVID. It wasn’t just about grounding me anymore — it felt like she was controlling my life.
So, I did what any 17-year-old would do: I snooped around. I knew she had a storage unit, and I figured she’d stashed it there. I waited until she left for a doctor’s appointment and found the keys in her room. It felt wrong, but I was FURIOUS. I had to get my car back.
When I got to the storage unit, I couldn’t help but smirk — victory was so close. I unlocked the door, expecting to see my car sitting there, untouched. But what I saw instead made me GO PALE.
There were boxes. Lots of them. Neatly labeled with
At 17, I craved freedom, but my mother’s concern suffocated me. One day, after I came home late, she punished me by hiding my car. Furious, I broke into her storage unit to retrieve it, only to find boxes labeled with my future milestones—18th birthday, graduation, wedding—each one containing gifts and letters she had prepared. It hit me: she was sick and preparing for a time when she wouldn’t be there to witness these moments.
The guilt overwhelmed me. I’d been so blind to her love and fear. I apologized, and we spent the last few months together, cherishing every moment. When she passed away, I found a letter for my 18th birthday, her words comforting me even in her absence.
Now, with her boxes of memories, I hold onto what she taught me—love never ends, even after death. I urge you to hug your mother now, cherish her love, and never take it for granted. Because one day, like me, you might wish for just one more moment.
