Roots and Wings

Dear Mother and Father

Dear Mother, dear Father,

I write these words not with pen alone,

but with the weight of all my days,

with the gratitude stitched into my breath,

with the memories that rise like dawn.

How can I begin to thank you

for the unseen labor,

for the silent strength,

for the countless moments you gave away

so I could stand where I now stand?

Mother, your hands have been my first teachers.

They taught me how to hold gently,

how to reach bravely,

how to create from nothing.

I saw them cracked with work,

lined with care,

yet always open, always giving.

You carried burdens in silence,

turned hunger into laughter,

turned scarcity into abundance

simply by the magic of your love.

Father, your footsteps have been my compass.

Each stride of yours carved paths

I did not yet understand.

You rose before the sun,

worked when the world slept,

and carried the weight of tomorrow

on shoulders that never bent.

You did not always speak in words,

but in sacrifice,

in the language of sweat,

in the poetry of endurance.

Together, you became the pillars of my world.

One teaching me tenderness,

the other teaching me resilience.

One showing me the strength of patience,

the other the power of persistence.

Both teaching me that love

is not just spoken—it is lived.

I remember the nights when storms howled,

yet inside our home,

there was warmth because you shielded me.

I remember the mornings when you went without,

so I could have what I needed.

I remember the quiet pride in your eyes,

when I stumbled yet tried again.

You believed in me

before I knew how to believe in myself.

Every dream I carry is not mine alone.

It is the dream you once whispered

when life was harsh,

when the fields were dry,

when the road ahead seemed endless.

You dreamed that I might walk farther,

climb higher,

see brighter horizons.

And so, I work, I strive,

because I know your sacrifices

must not be in vain.

Dear Mother and Father,

I want you to know:

I see you.

I see the tears you hid in silence,

the nights you stayed awake,

the fears you swallowed whole.

I see the joy you found

in the smallest victories,

the light that flickered in your gaze

when I took even one step forward.

You are the soil in which I root,

the sky in which I rise.

Every success I taste

carries the flavor of your effort.

Every achievement I touch

is stitched with your fingerprints.

And even when the world applauds me,

my heart turns back to you,

for I know it is your reflection they cheer.

If ever I falter,

if ever the world weighs me down,

I remember your lessons:

that storms pass,

that patience grows fruit,

that dignity is not wealth,

but how one carries struggle.

You showed me that greatness

is not in crowns or riches,

but in kindness, in honesty, in grit.

Dear Mother and Father,

forgive the times I misunderstood,

the days I was blind to your effort,

the moments I thought only of myself.

I was young, and I did not see

the depth of your sacrifice.

But now, with years behind me,

I see clearly:

your love is the foundation of all I am.

So let this letter be more than words.

Let it be a promise.

That I will carry forward your legacy.

That I will honor the sweat, the love, the pain.

That I will rise, not just for myself,

but for the dreams you once held close.

That when the world sees me,

they will also see you—

the two souls who shaped me.

Dear Mother, dear Father,

thank you.

For your hands, your steps, your hearts.

For being my shelter, my guides, my roots.

If there is greatness in me,

it is because you first planted it.

If there is hope in me,

it is because you watered it.

If there is strength in me,

it is because you carried me

until I could carry myself.

And so I say again—

with the fullness of my soul,

with the weight of every breath:

I love you.

I honor you.

I am because of you.

Forever your child.