No title could do this post any justice.

Disclaimer: Read post at own risk. Especially if the writer is your daughter. The writer accepts no responsibility for excessive emotional breakdown. You have been warned.

General warning: I wrote this post without any premeditation, planning or structure. As emotional posts go, this one’s a little all over the place.

Right. Let’s get on with it.

It’s Mother’s Day. (I never know where to put the apostrophe. I think I got it right this time. Hit and miss.)

It’s also the day that I leave. But we’re not talking about that today. There will be plenty of talk about me. This post is about my mom.

Look, let’s not beat around the bush here. There is not even the slightest chance that I would have been anywhere near ready for this trip had it not been for my mom’s ongoing support and organisation.

When I started talking about going overseas, I expected my mom to shrug it off like she does when I’m on one of my whims. Not this time. I believe it’s because she knows me so well that she knew this one’s for real.

From the get-go, my mom has been nothing short of amazing. Not only did she listen attentively to everything I told her, but she did her own research as well. Since the beginning of this year, we have had the most amazing grown-up discussions about my plans.

My mom, wow. How do I put into words what she’s meant to me?

Look, she’s always been supportive and helpful and all those great things. But I think this time deserves very special recognition. I mean, I think my mom’s gotten pretty used to having me around. Who thought I’d ever leave, right? And never mind leaving home, or leaving town, I’m going all the way! Yet my mom, despite having to deal with letting go, still ninja chopped the process and ensured smooth sailing for me. If I had to pay my mom for the services she’s rendered, I’d be broke right now. Scrap that, I’m already broke (come on, millions, I’m waiting for you!). But there’s no way I would have managed with all the searches, e-mailing, printing, phoning, planning, driving around and a whole lot in between on my own. No way.

How am I supposed to thank her for being so amazingly supportive? I know exactly what I’ll do: I’ll tackle this thing head-on and make a great success out of it. I will learn so much about myself and the world, and she will see her hard work pay off.

So yes, I’m all packed and ready to go. How that even possible? It’s possible because while I was freaking out, she was calmly packing my suitcase. She was the perfect person to help plan my wardrobe. She was the voice of reason when I wanted to pack something unnecessary, and she was my guilty conscience when I so ruthlessly threw perfectly good things out. My mom folded, rolled, organised, vacuum packed, fit, carried, unpacked, repacked, weighed, reassessed, unpacked, repacked and re-vacuumed. Somehow in between all this, she managed to keep me calm and level-headed. She also made sure we were fed. She entertained guests and even managed to fit some sleep in there somewhere.

I’m rambling. It’s long past my bedtime, but this is more important than sleep right now.

My mom needs to know that she rocks my world. And all of you had better know it too!


There’s no doubting what an integral part you’ve played in getting me here. Yes, I lied to you when said I’d go straight to sleep, but all things considered, I’m doing OK. All thanks to you.

Thank you for making all my favourite foods and for taking me to all my favourite restaurants. Thank you for all the little things (and the big things too for that matter) you did in order to make sure I had a smooth ride.

For this, I owe you indefinitely. But that’s OK, because that’s how long and how much I love you.