I’m a long distance daughter.
I have been all of my adult life.
I have missed out on big and little moments. I’ve missed out on mundane things. I don’t have the luxury of driving a few minutes to my parents house.
Because I’m a long distance daughter.
When it’s been a tough day, I can’t go lay on my mom’s couch. The only thing I can do is call her.
I’ve missed countless holidays, birthdays, and special occasions. I’ve said “Merry Christmas” over FaceTime for years. I’ve shipped presents in brown boxes. I use vacation days to see my parents. And I see them, in a good year, two times. And now, I’m used to that.
Because I’m a long distance daughter.
I update them with news through texts or calls. I am older and look different each time I see them. I have my own life now, and that’s okay.
But when I’ve just had it and want to shut the world off, I’d love more than anything to go to my parent’s house for dinner. Listen to my dad tell bad jokes that I’ll still laugh at. Have my mom make my favorite meal and tell me things will be okay. But I can’t do that.
Because I’m a long distance daughter.
Sincerely,
Sydney