I Wish I Could Go Back

Sometimes I wish I could go back and talk to 14-year-old me. I’d tell her to be a little kinder to others, especially her mom. I’d tell her to have more grace. To realize that Mom wasn’t just “Mom.” She was a wife, a sister, a secretary, a CCW president, a friend, and a hundred other roles all pulling her in different directions, juggling a hundred things at once every day.

I’d remind her that Mom was probably tired - exhausted even - but she still listened. She still showed up. She still tried to help, even when she had a thousand of her own worries tucked away where I couldn’t see them. I’d tell younger me to pay attention to Mom’s advice, even when it sounded repetitive, because behind those words was love - love wrapped in reminders she hoped would one day sink in. Because she’d made mistakes she hoped I wouldn’t - that every well-meaning piece of advice wasn’t her chastising me. It was just lived wisdom. Because one day, she wouldn’t be here anymore to tell me anything.

I’d tell my younger self the hardest truth of all: we only had 11 years left together. Ten, really, if you count the ones when she wasn’t sick. And if I could have understood that, maybe I would’ve stopped fighting so much. Maybe I would’ve valued our time instead of wasting it with grumbling over the small things she asked of me. Maybe I would’ve noticed the thousands of things she did quietly, without ever asking for recognition. Maybe we would have found the friend phase sooner instead of when I was 19 or 20.

I’d tell young Allie to listen harder, to remember her mom’s words, because one day she’d be 45, raising kids of her own, and wishing for that guidance. Wishing she could lean on Mom instead of feeling like she was somehow failing at the very job Mom made look so effortless.

Mostly, I’d tell 14-year-old me that every day with Mom was one day closer to the day without her. And that the arguments, the eye rolls, the sighs - all of it - would fade. What would remain is the ache of wanting one more conversation, one more piece of advice, one more ordinary day together.

Even just one more day.