I inherited my dad’s sense of adventure. Between helicopter rides, diving underwater craters, planning to learn how to fly planes together and skiing double black diamonds, my dad and I are the exact, same person. So when I decided to go skydiving on a whim, I knew he would absolutely love the idea and more than likely call me afterward to ask me if he would like it too.

My mom , not so much.

She’s the opposite of my dad and I when it comes to adventure, and she gave me every possible reason not to go. She googled accidents, how often a parachute fails to deploy and the likelihood of me “landing too hard” and breaking a bone, wasting no time to remind me of my chances of dying.

And it was really frustrating.

Of course, I knew exactly where she was coming from. I was jumping out of a moving plane at 14,000 feet – it’s not exactly the same as diving into the swimming pool. Having been supportive of all my other adventures, having married and raised a husband and a daughter exactly alike and having had talked about skydiving for over a year with her, I figured it would be expected that I would go sooner or later.

I didn’t realize until after I jumped – how much she loved me to let me go like that. So...

Dear Mom,

Thank you for being over-protective. Thank you for worrying about me, and for loving me through your desire to protect me. Thank you for loving me enough to care about my well-being and to make sure that the daughter you raised was raised just right. Thank you for knowing my limitations and being there to remind me of them when I don’t see it myself.

Thank you for letting me go. Thank you for loving me enough to let me go and let me live, even if it means I get hurt in the process. I’m sorry for all the nightmares I’ve given you and for the nights you spent awake in bed because I forgot to tell you that I had made it home, and I was upstairs in my room. Thank you for letting me go climb mountains and go on road trips – for letting me do things that might cause you pain because I know how happy it makes you to see me happy, just as I know how happy it makes me to see you happy. Thank you for supporting me every step of the way, for holding my hand when I needed it and for letting me walk on my own when you knew I could.

Thank you for going to war for me. Thank you for making sure I had a voice when I couldn’t speak. Thank you for being the “Texas Tornado,” for fighting my fights with me and making sure everyone knew that you weren’t OK with your baby hurting. Thank you for sacrificing your own friendships and relationships to stand up for me when something just wasn’t right. Thank you for crying with me when it got painful and for laughing with me when it was better, for late-night talks and late-night tea on the front porch swing and for being a consistent shoulder to cry on. Thank you for being my rock.

Thank you for having my back. Thank you for knowing exactly the daughter you raised: a fiery, fierce image of you. Thank you for supporting me through all of it, from boyfriends you didn’t like to break-ups you didn’t like, from princess to fighter pilot to lawyer. Thank you for the days you let me stay home “sick” to the nights at 2 a.m. when you let me stay up to keep studying. Thank you for being there for the meetings with the college counselor that went absolutely nowhere because she didn’t understand that we only wanted one school. Thank you for celebrating with me on the day I got in.

Thank you for back rubs and braided hair and "Pride and Prejudice" with Kiera Knightley, because nothing makes us happier. Thank you for the support when you knew something wasn’t going to last and for the support when you knew I had made the right decision, even if it wasn’t easy. Thank you for the support when my dreams had become yours too.

Thank you for the long hours. Thank you for working as hard as you always have to make sure that we always had everything we could’ve ever wanted. Thank you for the long hours spent in the car, from the time you picked me up from a baseball game two hours away (a car ride that turned into three and a half hours) to driving me to and from the Children’s Hospital in the last few years, holding my hand with me even at age 18 because you know I don’t like needles. Thank you for giving up on dance to raise Drew and me, because honestly, I’m not that willing to lose my time with you to a dance studio, and I’m so thankful I never had to. Thank you for all of the things you sacrificed for us.

Thank you for forgiving me. Thank you for knowing that I make mistakes and for accepting failed tests and failed dreams. Thank you for loving me enough to know I didn’t want to become a ballerina, for knowing I get really frustrated when I can’t figure out a piano piece and for dealing with me even when I’m on my phone way too much. I’m sorry for all the times I’ve disappointed you, and I hope you know how much I love you and how badly it hurt me when I did hurt you.

I’m sorry for all the fights we’ve had on nights that ended in angry tears and slamming doors. Thank you for forgetting your pride when I was too stubborn and angry to forget mine and for knocking on my door not long after to play with my hair and initiate the apology. Thank you for knowing I’m not perfect, and thank you for not trying to raise me that way. Thank you for knowing I’m only human and for forgiving me when I forget to call at night and tell you I love you. Thank you for letting my best be good enough, even when it’s not.

Thank you for being my best friend. Thank you for all the long conversations about God and boys, about friendships and friends lost. Thank you for molding our friendship so perfectly that I know I can come to you for anything, and I always do. Thank you for housing sleepovers and for buying the bad foods for them that you so desperately hate. Thank you for not being able to go a week without seeing me because I can barely go a week without seeing you. Thank you for shopping trips and Nutcrackers, for always being my biggest fan, cheering right there alongside dad. Thank you for dreaming with me and for bringing me back down to earth when I need it. Thank you for being my other half and for being my best friend, for loving me all the time and for always showing it.

Thank you for being my mom. I know I say this all the time, but I don’t know what I would have done if I didn’t have you. Thank you for teaching me right from wrong, for loving me through mistakes and for teaching me what “pardon my reach” means (and that it’s actually a phrase used at the dinner table). Thank you for cleaning my room when it looked like a tornado had gone through it and for making Drew and I whack each other with balloons to teach us that, even when we’re mad, angry can turn into laughter so easily.

Thank you for building me up and for never tearing me down, for dinner at 10 at night because it was when I got back from dance and for breakfast in the car because we hated taking the bus. Thank you for knowing when we weren’t sick but for letting us skip anyway so we could all spend the day together, for dressing us up in matching clothes on Easter because God forbid we not all be color coordinated and for going shopping with me on Black Friday even though you hate it. Thank you for knowing when I need Ben and Jerry’s and when I need a night out of the house.

Thank you for sharing me with other people who have come in and out of my life, because I know you don’t like to share your time with me. Thank you for family dinners when you were exhausted and for doing whatever it took to make us happy. Thank you for the tough lessons learned and a hand to hold. Thank you for offering to look into getting another dog when we didn’t get that husky named Koda even though I know you don’t like anything that doesn’t cuddle. Thank you for being there for every school function, for packing up every move and for never missing a beat. Thank you for being there every step of the way.

I love you to the moon and back, thank you for being my mom.

And I know, I probably didn't always do the best job, and I definitely haven't done everything right. But despite of all that, above all, thank you for letting me be your daughter.

Love,

Caroline