to my mother

Saying that we’ve lived many lives together would be an understatement. We truly grew up side by side. You were barely out of girlhood when you had me—still learning who you were as a woman, a daughter, a wife… and suddenly, a mother too. And yet, through all of that, you held a vision for yourself. You were determined to build a life, a career, and a future—not just for us, but for yourself.

Almost 40 years later, we’re still doing life together. Through the highs, the heartbreaks, the growth, the silence, the laughter—all of it.

A few months ago, you told me that you felt you did wrong by my brother and me. That, looking back, you would have done some things differently. But I want to say this clearly: it’s easy to question yourself in hindsight, especially when you've been the main parent, the provider, the one who showed up every single day. But the truth is, you never failed us.

It wasn’t you.

It was our father.
It was the world.
It was society.
It was a system that constantly tells mothers they’re not enough while demanding they carry everything on their own shoulders.

And still—you carried it.
With grace. With fire. With a quiet kind of rebellion.

You never accepted the lie that to be a good mother you had to give up yourself. You chose not to sacrifice your dreams. And maybe that wasn’t easy. Maybe it came with judgment. But what I see when I look at you is a woman who is fulfilled, who is whole, who did what she came here to do.

And that, to me, is everything.

You raised your children, you gave your best. But in the end, we’re each living out our own paths—our own destinies. Even though we once shared a body, our lives are separate. And what you’ve shown me is that love means letting go while still believing in us completely.

Because here’s the thing I know for sure: every time I call you, every time I text you, every time I sit across from you, I feel unbreakable. Like no matter what’s falling apart, you will always find a way to hold me together.

I love you more than words will ever be able to hold.

To my perfect, imperfect mother—who is exactly what I needed, and more.
You are everything.

With love,
Marine Sélénée