Mom, I have loved going through this exciting transition with you over the past couple of months. And I think that we’ve made the most of it. We’ve raced into Target with coupons stuffed in our fists, making a beeline towards the dorm room section before it was even done being set up. We’ve hopped from bank to bank in order to figure out the best student accounts, snagging free lollipops from the tellers’ desks every trip. We’ve even spent seven long hours messing around at Bed Bath & Beyond only to purchase six items.

But the last few weeks have also been pretty tense. Whether it’s disagreements about the best way to organize my boxes or stupid fights over whether or not I need four blankets instead of just three (I do), the impending separation has admittedly gotten the best of both of us. I’ve tried to remain positive and optimistic all this time, but the truth is: I’m scared.

I know—you’re “only a phone call away.” But that’s not the same as coming home after a bad day at school and being able to curl up on the couch with some Nilla wafers and watch episode after episode of Grey’s Anatomy while you play with my hair. No phone call will ever be comparable to an afternoon at Macy’s, trying on ridiculous prom dresses to get rid of the nerves that came along with getting my ears pierced. It’s as though I’m starting over.

While externally I am portraying an air of confidence at my imminent independence, internally my insides are being wrung dry. Having to adjust to a new routine is something I’ve been doing all my life with school, extracurricular activities, and volunteering. On a normal weekday, 4:00 in the afternoon signaled that it was time to get my butt up off the couch and quickly empty the dishwasher because you were on your way home. Now if I find myself on a couch at 4:00 on a weekday it’ll mean I’m late for Western Literature. It isn’t just one aspect of my life that’s changing. Everything I’ve ever known and been familiar with is doing a full 180 and I won’t have you to help me every step of the way anymore. I should’ve taken advantage of that while I still had the chance to.

Once I stepped foot in middle school, I never looked back. Independence became a necessary aspect of my life. I wanted to go out and try new things. Boys became a thing which probably made dad more nervous than you. I was going on dates and I had a brand new group of friends that you weren’t familiar with. I started to borrow your concealer (bad idea) and try my hand at mascara. I also started to push you away—it was no longer “cool” to hide behind your mom’s legs.

Regardless, your advice has never failed to be present, whether I wanted to hear it or not, especially when it came to boys. All of a sudden this advice was coming out of nowhere, 100 miles per hour. I ignored most of it, brushing it off with a “you wouldn’t understand.” But the advice disguised itself in the form of ‘suggestions’ in order to make it seem less like I was giving in. Now, four years later, boy-related or not, I can say the three words you’ve always wanted to hear: You. Were. Right.

You were right about the red flags, smart choices, amount of clothes to bring on vacation, toxic friendships, putting myself first, not combining colored clothes with white pants in the wash—you were right about all of it.

So just because I’m leaving, it doesn’t mean that you’ll no longer be one of the most important parts of my life. That’s something that will never change. Just because I don’t get to see you every day doesn’t mean that I’ll forget you or love you any less. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. I am so proud to be able to call you my mom and know that, no matter what, you’ll always have my back. You have done so much for me—more than I’ll probably ever know, until I have children of my own. You made so many sacrifices when you were my age and have taught me the importance of hard work. I have learned how to not only be a strong woman, but a strong person. Because of your influence and encouragement, I am a better leader, student, teammate, and friend. I know it will be hard on both of us, but if I’m my mother’s daughter, I will be able to handle this new chapter of my life with the same dignity and grace as you did. Thank you for all that you’ve done to help me prepare for this next step. I love you. You were right.