On the path of growing up, I was very close to my Mother. I would tell her everything about myself, everything that happened at school. I would speak about my worries, my happy moments, and my sad ones.

I vividly remember the times she would pick me up from school and take me to an ice cream shop near my kindergarten. She would speak about every little detail that happened to her at work—how her coworker told a funny joke in a serious meeting, or how she thought of me when my favorite song played on the car radio. You name it! we shared everything.

However, our relationship hasn’t always been unicorns and rainbows. We’ve drifted away from each other throughout time: I stopped sharing my thoughts and feelings. Although I sensed that she kept trying to reach out to me by offering to go for a ride in the car with no intention of reaching a destination, just to chat about our day like we used to, or by cooking my favorite meals. I saw how hard she tried to bond with me. I started to feel quite guilty actually, but I never gave in.

One afternoon she told me she wanted to have a talk. I immediately knew what it was going to be about. She started it off with an awkward “So… How are you?” I carelessly nodded my head; I just wanted her to get straight to the point already, so I would just simply agree and move on. Instead, she continued whining about how I haven’t been communicating with not just her but any of my family members. I didn’t exactly know how to respond to any of that, so instead, I stayed silent, listening to her complain while I fidgeted with the broken piece on the wooden table. I couldn’t hear what she was saying since I had racing thoughts in my head at that moment.

After what felts like hours, she ended it with, ”You know, at this age, you might not always understand yourself, and that’s perfectly fine, but what isn’t fine is not to share this feeling with your mother.”

That’s when I started hearing her clearly again, considering we’d had this conversation before. This one was different. I began to relate to what she had just said. I began to actually understand how she was viewing the situation, and I began to notice how she would have felt with the lack of communication. 

I finally spoke up and said, “I guess so.” Even though my answer didn’t sound so sure, she realized how I noticed the problem. I hugged her with relief; I was glad she understood how I felt.

After that conversation, I don’t think I ever kept anything from my mother to this day. Happy ending right? Not quite! A few weeks after that talk with my mom, she surprised me with a trip to Georgia. I was over the moon! However, my mother wouldn’t be coming along. Although I still feel ashamed of this, but the thought of her not being there was the part I was excited about rather than traveling with my friends. The first few days were great! I had a picnic by the lake with a bunch of friends and went on a long hike in the Khudadov forest. Around the fourth day, I began to really miss her company, her enthusiasm towards anything that I would usually get annoyed with, and her irrelevant unfunny jokes that would make any conversation humorous.

Although I had my friends around me they didn’t understand just as well as my mom does. Most of the time I wouldn’t need to say a word. She would immediately understand how I felt just by my gestures.  

Even though I thought traveling without my mother would be a dream come true. I instead found myself calling her every time I thought of something funny or each time we would go out for lunch so I could eat together. I would even imagine how she would admire the ancient buildings if she were with me

That trip to Georgia is something I will definitely never forget. I don’t think my mother had the intention of the trip being a life lesson. But she had shown and taught me that no matter who you have in life or how close you can be with someone, no one can outstand the unbreakable bond you are given from the second you are born till the very end. You might not see it at first and find it quite silly actually, but trust me there is no one more trustworthy and caring than your mother.

—Bana Mehyar