3. Your parents

Dear Mom and Dad,

I’m fine. How‘re you? Hope you’re doing well, as always. Now don’t get into any awestruck wonder on seeing this letter. This is just a challenge your son had put himself in for next ten or fifteen days. Ah, nope, not a challenge that would strain my body, I swear. So don’t get tensed. It’s just about my mind – to write a letter to thirty people, and of course, you [together] are one among them.

As I started this letter, I wondered what I should write about, either some usual ‘thanks for everything’ or some ‘unconfessed confession’ rambles. Then I contemplated for few seconds only to end up winnowing out both. As a son, I am nothing short of obvious to thank you both for everything. So why bother to mention it here. And confessions, it’s too early to talk about it, I think. (Secrets have to be secrets, at least for a long while, right?)

What else? Okay, Dad, I have to say you something that I can’t do in person. I, for the better, will use this letter. Comparatively, it’s Mom who had spent most of the time with me, and frankly, sometimes I yearned for you to be with me when you weren’t anywhere near me actually. But now that your son has grown up, and understood the conception of being a father, I can understand your stand then. If it hasn’t been for you, we, our family, wouldn’t have been what we’re now. I won’t thank you for that; I’ll just take it as a lesson for my future.

Mom, you’re the best. I know how much you’ve given to your kids. And having known you for all these years, I know there was nothing left for you to have given us more.

You both were born poor, grown poor, but you‘ve never let your kids experience it. As a kid, I remember being upset sometimes for not getting what I wanted then. I might have shown it to your face. I was a kid, after all. Anyway, my sincere apologies to you guys.

You both have shown me what’s good and what’s bad, and the importance of being good. I always try to be good, but still if you ever hear something bad about me, never blame yourselves for that. I can’t take that, seriously. It’s me who should be ashamed and blamed, no matter what.

I wish I teach you the N, E, and T of the net, and make you read this letter [and my blog, of course]!

-       Yours loving son.

In case you're bumping me off over what this is about: 30 Letters