I donāt call home nearly as much as I should. Thatās partially due to my busy schedule during the week, as well as getting caught up with indulging in my free time, whether it be spending time with friends or in solitude. I try to call my parents at least a few times a week to let them know Iām alive, but I really take for granted the conversations that we have, specifically the ones between my mother and I.
Conversations with my mom are all over the place. In the span of 20 minutes, we can chat about our days, get into a heated political debate, cry about our feelings, yell at each other over nothing and then go back to chatting about our days. These are my favorite conversations.
When I lived at home, I took conversations with my mom for granted. She liked to turn things into a lecture or a history lesson, even if I was just trying to tell her a joke. But looking back Iāve realized our conversations always held depth. Depth that, often, couldnāt be replicated between my friends and I. Itās taken nineteen (almost 20!!!) years, but Iāve come to realize that thereās truly nothing like conversations between a mother and daughter (Donāt get jealous dad, Iāve written articles about you already.).
So to my mom reading this, Iām sorry Iāve only been calling about once a week, and I promise I will call more often so we can cry and yell and laugh some more.