Dear Mom, I apologize for the wars, the broken and stained things, the stabbed apples, the eaten food, the bad grades, the umbrella parachutes. The holes we made in the walls, the clothes we outgrew, the angry or tattooed years, the needy and lost years, even as adults. I hope that you still might choose us even knowing we would take so much out of you because maybe the pieces it would take to shape us would make you whole.