Thankful

The warm Caribbean gusts of wind ran through my hair, and my skin was frying underneath the intense sun. Three quarters of the way around us is turquoise water splashing onto rocks, and the other quarter is little local shops built into hillsides. Nowhere else could have been closer to heaven than in that moment, but all I could think about was the freezing cold of Maine. I wanted to be back to my familiar room, with my familiar schedule, doing what I do nine months out of the year. This interruption felt like a waste of time that I could be doing work. I could be studying, and I could be savoring the last four months with my friends. Instead I was burning my skin, getting seasick while I do homework on a ship, and being irked by my best friend. Ultimately this trip was just over forty absences and a nice view. These thoughts, while they had been brewing for days, were sprinting through my head at top speed while I boarded a bus to a beach with my mother.

Since, like a baby, I fall asleep whenever I am in a car, I dozed off resting my head on my mother’s shoulder. When I woke up from the lurch of the stopping bus, waking up in a worse mood than before. The thoughts of how useless this vacation is permeated the beautiful landscapes in front of me. My mom was taking pictures and meandering around, looking as touristy as possible. I thought about how at this same time I could be in class, not missing everything. My irritability continued to intensify and intensify and intensify until it boiled over. I exploded at my mom and all the thoughts that I have had over the past four days came spilling out of my mouth like vomit. I felt relieved as I expressed my dislike for the situation. However, as I felt like the weight of the world has been lifted off my shoulders, my mom’s smile disappeared and her eyes saddened. Even though my biggest fear is disappointing my mother, I did not register this change in her attitude, my own joy overshining the sadness of my best friend.

It was only until ten minutes later, when I got out of my sleep-induced anger, that I realized my impact. My mom wandered listlessly around the exquisite landscape. My mom and I have a unique relationship. We are more of sisters than we are mother and daughter. While I was young she was constantly working, but I thought she never wanted to see me. Now I know that was not true. After the divorce we got extremely close. We helped each other, trying to fill in the empty holes that were left. I knew on the trip her only goal was to spend more than two hours with me, and I made it miserable. I had gotten upset before on the trip, and we always talked it out. This time felt different.

I slowly walked back over to her, approaching as if I were encountering a wild animal, uncertain of what could happen. She ignored my advancement and continued her snapping of pictures. I knew all I had to do was apologize sincerely, explain what I did, and give her a hug. This was a foolproof way of fixing whatever wrong I created. For some reason I could not bring myself to apologize for my being miserable; it was not something that I did wrong or made a mistake in. However, I knew if I said nothing, if I continued this unnecessary, meaningless disagreement, everything would be worse. Stuffing my pride back into the giant box it came from, I put my arms around her and rested my head on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry.”