An Open Letter to Share My Regret

Dear Mum,

I don't have a secret for you. I never kept anything from you except maybe -

I never snuck out of the house to meet a boy - although, I planned how I would do it if I could. I never drank anything but water and cordial. Not until 6 months after I legally could did I ever take even a sip. Even soft drink that you didn't approve, I stayed away from, I trusted your judgement. I never let anyone pressure me into anything. I never did any of the "bad" things.

I chose friends who didn't do those things either.

My only claim to adventure was a book and a torch when I should have been in bed hours before, ducking under the covers when you would check on me, hiding the light of the torch until I could read again.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining.

Whatever differences we've had since I grew up and became an adult and since that last time that I had your rules to guide me - I don't blame you. I could have rebelled. I could have.

I could have snuck out of the house. I was invited to parties with drinking and drugs. I knew the girls at my school who had the secret condom trade. I could have taken that leap.

Like I said, I planned it out. I was going to open the garage door and slip out in the middle of the night. I could take the keys from beside the door, text one of the boys on the facebook account that you only let me have after I begged. I could have gone away in the night and I could have done whatever it was that was the opposite of the things that you would have wanted for me.

I planned it out and I thought about it all the time. I thought about all the things that I could do that were not like me, not like you. I wanted to try these things.

But I didn't.

So my only real confession is that I regret that I didn't.

I don't think that I was necessarily scared of the consequences. About you yelling or being disappointed. I don't remember being worried about you finding out. I don't remember worrying about my safety.

I was maybe a little scared.

But I just didn't do it because I thought - what was the point? There was no point to it. There was no reason to. I could stay in and hide my reading and sleep and wake up in the morning and do whatever else I wanted to do - why would I want to leave in the middle of the night? Why would I want to do to those parties that I would hear about on Monday from a friend of a friend?

But then I became an adult and I thought that I got there well. I was always told I was mature for my age. Everything was good. Nothing was in my way.

But then -

But now, I'm a few years into this adulting thing. There isn't a lot of room to make mistakes. No one is having parties on the weekend.

I'm no longer in your house. But there is a back door at mine. And sometimes I go to lock the back door and I leave it unlocked, in case *anyone* wants to sneak out in the night.

And I never do. Because I think that maybe the time for sneaking out in the night is beyond me and I think that if I was ever going to do something like that, I should have done it then.