Hold my hand, don’t drag me by my sleeve.
Hold my hand, don’t take it to pull me where I don’t want to go.
Hold my hand, don’t fling it away because you have more important things to do.
Hold my hand and say, “We’ll do this together,” not “You’re so stupid! Why can’t you do anything right?”
Hold my hand and guide me to walk strong and tall, not pull yours away and say, “Stand on your two feet, you dirty yellow chicken!”
Hold my hand, tell me I am a good daughter despite my flaws, not tell all the relatives that I am unfilial, unreliable, untrustworthy, worthless, and lacking in grace, manners and civility.
Hold my hand, teach me arts and crafts and life skills, not use your own to slap me, and write lists and essays of how much money I cost you to raise me.
Hold my hand because you are my mother, and I should be by your side for your golden years.
But you know what?
Don’t hold my hand.
I have walked a long road on my own two feet. It has taken a long while but I have found my path. I found my way. And I am letting you go.
RDP ~ HOLD MY HAND