Dear Mom and Dad,
I think I owe you an apology. Probably more than one, really, but this will have to do for now. They say it takes a big man to apologize, and I think I’ve got that part covered. It takes an even bigger man to admit his mistakes in person, but sheesh, I’m not Andre the Giant. This is the apology letter that I will never write to you directly, but will instead publish on the internet so I feel better about myself without actually having an intimate conversation that would require acknowledging real feelings or generating any resolution for you. My chosen online peers tend to affirm whatever I post, so this seems like a surefire winner for my self-esteem, which I know is what you would want for me, if you were around to read this. Not that you’re dead, just that you won’t see this since we’re not Facebook friends.
That’s probably the first thing I should apologize for – I’ve always talked down Facebook so that you wouldn’t join and I’d have the awkward situation of deciding whether to accept your friend request or not. “I’m not sure Facebook is for you, Mom, I think you need a .edu email address to get an account.” Sorry, that was pretty selfish of me, feel free to join Facebook anytime, though I’m not sure that Facebook is open to retirees yet – probably soon though!
Remember that one time I missed preschool because I was on the toilet constipated, and you had to call the preschool and tell them I wouldn’t be coming to school that day? Yeah, sorry about that. Sorry also that I didn’t eat enough fiber as a preschooler, even though you repeatedly warned me that all kids need fiber – I still hate prune juice.
Sorry for the time I got hit by a car on the way to school in third grade.
In fifth grade, I had a big project due and I didn’t do the work. Instead of manning up like a fifth-grader should, I feigned sickness and stayed home from school. Sorry that I was precocious in my procrastination and excuse-making skills. Side note: I should probably also apologize to Mrs. Pinner for 4th, 5th and 6th grades, since I drove her to retirement.
Remember that one time I wet the bed for 6 years? Sorry about that.
I also owe you an apology for that time I screamed, “Mom, you just made me die!” while I was whipping the tri-fireballs that Dracula hurled at me in Castlevania. I mean, sure, I still wonder what you just happened to need at that exact moment in the Belmont saga from the end table cabinet that you only opened once per year, but I now realize that it was my fault (should’ve used the boomerang) that the fireballs killed me, and I am now aware that you are not part of Dracula’s family and working against me – I take that back and I now regret having said it.
Your home has a lovely guest room, and it used to be my room, but not quite as lovely back when I lived there. Sorry about decorating your walls with posters and pictures like this:
I apologize for 1988.
And 1989.
Also parts of 1990 and 1979. Oh, and most of 1996, but it’d probably be better if we didn’t talk about that, since you don’t even know what I’d be apologizing for. Forget I mentioned 1996, okay, Dad?
Sorry for the time I got hit by a car on the way to school in 9th grade.
You always said that the way I dress says a lot about me, so I need to say sorry about dressing like this. And like this. Sorry also about this haircut:
Sorry about my first three freshmen years in college. You know what they say, the fourth time is the charm, right?
Sorry about Those that times I forgot your birthdays.
Sincerely,
Your son
PS – if you were hoping to find out what really happened at my seventh grade house party, or that night I was out late with that girl, or how that daquiri stain got on your carpet while you ran up to Kroger, sorry. I only share those stories with my Facebook friends.
