I never want to go through this again.

How we (or I, anyway) can take something as dear as the day-to-day company and conversation of a close family member such as one's own mother for granted, all for the sake of pride.

If you read yesterday's post, you know that I was pretty down in the dumps, in the midst of a fight with my mom. We had not spoken for two whole days. My mother and I are everything to each other and we've always lived together, just the two of us for most of the time. We are extremely close. The reason for our fight was silly, but it happened at a time when I was particularly touchy, and as neither one of us would buck down, we spent a couple of very sad, very uncomfortable days without speaking.

We've made peace now. I called my dad earlier today to ask for his advice, and the conversation ended with me sobbing almost hysterically. My poor dear father, who lives in Argentina and whom I have not seen in over eight years as I've said before on this blog, was very distressed by this, obviously; I don't think he's heard me cry since I was little girl. I'd had a knot on my throat for two days and upon hearing his kind, calm voice giving me what advice he could, I came undone. But it did me good, and when my mom got home, I was able to talk to her again, first some awkward chit-chat --a greeting, the news of the past two days condensed in a few sentences-- and later about what happened between us.

Regardless of who was at fault (in the end, we both offended and hurt the other) we both agreed that this "not talking" business is a horrid idea that should never ever be repeated as long as we live. It was so lonely and painful. I don't mean to repeat it even if I have to stomp over my own pride to prevent it.

Now I feel so happy and light, as though I were walking over clouds. What peace this is, to know my mother is my friend again! Now I can sleep at ease again, and enjoy myself with my friends this weekend, and concentrate on my work without a heavy heart or guilty conscience.

-Marina