Mommy, Momma, Mom. I love you. I really hope you’re aware of that. No matter how many times I drive you insane, no matter how many times you strain your voice to lecture me, I love you. I love your Cantonese face, I love your thick accent, I love your cooking, I love your silly jokes, I love your strict parenting, I love you.

I hope you’ll be fine. I wouldn’t know what to do. Although you raised me to be independent, I would be lost. And Mom, one last thing, I love you.