Four years ago, my family visited me in Costa Rica and my mom brought me bags of quinoa, because I complained about how expensive everything was at the grocery stores.
I stumbled on this photo via Facebook memories, the app that shows you what you posted on this day BLANK years ago. Seeing a digital reminder that I loved my mom was powerful to say the least. I don't recall posting this picture, but as soon as I saw it I remembered her visit. And my attitude to her was much more sour than what the caption may make you think.
I don't want to think about how, while everyone else complained about missing their family and friends, I was content and actually much happier than I had been recently. Maybe I can blame this indifference on my adaptability. Or maybe I was actually glad to be away from my family.
My mom frequently complained about being taken advantage of. And I told her she was wrong. I told her I loved her. Even when I didn't show it. And I wasn't lying. I know I wasn't lying. It just took her to be in tears or to be ready to storm out of the house, leaving only echoes of her shrill voice behind her, for me to say I love you.
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