My Mother's Choice

The day I received my provisional acceptance into a graduate program, my mom came home carrying two shopping bags with the Apple logo on them. She said with a smile, "Since you're both heading to graduate school, I bought each of you a new laptop. It's only fair." My sister eagerly tore open her bag. Inside was the latest MacBook—sleek, lightweight, and beautiful. Then, Mom handed me mine. It was an older model from several years ago, with basic specs and not even a single accessory included. I looked down at the two laptops, the difference between them impossible to ignore. Before I could say anything, Mom gently ruffled my hair. "Sunny, your field doesn't require that much computing power. This one's durable, and it was a great deal. I went to several stores before I found the right one for you, so don't overthink it." She smiled as she spoke, almost hoping I would praise her for all the effort she had made. She did love me. To prove she did not play favorites, she spent a sweltering summer afternoon driving from store to store to find my laptop. However, she had forgotten one thing. My sister and I were in the exact same graduate program. That was when I realized something I should have understood long ago. The love she gave me was always just a little less. From that day on, I stopped hoping it would ever be enough.