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"  There I was, cell phone in hand, getting ready to call my parents. First I dialed one number and then hung up. Then four. On the third try, I got to ten and hung up before it started ringing.  Deep breath, K. You can do this. Just call.  1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10, ring, ring, Don&amp;#039;t hang up, K. Don&amp;#039;t hang up. &amp;quot;Hello?&amp;quot; It was my mother&amp;#039;s singsong voice that she uses until she knows who&amp;#039;s on the other end.  &amp;quot;Hi Mom,&amp;quot; I said. &amp;quot;It&amp;#039;s K.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Oh! K!&amp;quot; she sounded flustered. &amp;quot;So good to hear from you.&amp;quot;  Now it was my turn to be flustered. &amp;quot;Thanks. And um, thanks for calling about the show. That was really nice.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Oh K., the phone was ringing off the hook. The whole neighborhood was watching.&amp;quot;  I laughed.  &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;m so proud of you, honey,&amp;quot; she said. &amp;quot;You were wonderful.&amp;quot;  My eyes started to fill up with tears, and my throat closed up. Here was my mother, telling me what I&amp;#039;d waited my whole life to hear her say to me, and it was just too much.  &amp;quot;K?&amp;quot; she asked tentatively. &amp;quot;Are you still there?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Yes,&amp;quot; I said, stifling a sob. &amp;quot;But someone just rang my doorbell. I think my food is here. I, uh, have to go.&amp;quot;  I pulled myself together and called Little Brother.  &amp;quot;Are you okay?&amp;quot; he asked, concerned, when he heard my voice. &amp;quot;What happened?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Just talked to Mom. I&amp;#039;m having a meltdown.&amp;quot;  LB and I spent two hours on the phone, and he witnessed my entire range of emotions. *First, I was thankful that I finally felt like she loved me and was proud of me. *Then I was angry because she waited so long to show me. If she had done that a long time ago, maybe I wouldn&amp;#039;t have grown up feeling like I was never good enough. *Then I was confused -- what changed? *Then, finally, I was sad, because part of me feels like it&amp;#039;s too late to repair all the damage years of not communicating (me) and criticizing (her) has done.  And LB was great. He didn&amp;#039;t pull any of his usual, &amp;quot;Whatever, our mother sucks&amp;quot; stuff that he usually does.  When I was finally done crying, and swearing, and asking questions that had no answers, he surprised me.  &amp;quot;You know K., I hate to say it, but she&amp;#039;s trying.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;What&amp;#039;s with the change of heart?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;She&amp;#039;s been calling me, too,&amp;quot; he said. &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;ve been going through some of the same stuff.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Why didn&amp;#039;t you call me?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;m not like you,&amp;quot; he explained. &amp;quot;I internalize everything. I&amp;#039;m not going to call you all sobbing and crap.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Was there sobbing?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;No.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Liar.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Anyway,&amp;quot; he said, ignoring me. &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;m going to give her a break. For now. You?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;m going to try,&amp;quot; I said, and meant it. &amp;quot;You think we&amp;#039;re ever going to get the story on what the hell happened to her?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Probably not.&amp;quot;  We got off the phone, and I decided that whatever happened, happened. I&amp;#039;m ready to move forward. Not that I have the faintest idea of how to even start, but I&amp;#039;ll probably figure it out. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.cosmopolitan.com/sex-love/a7806/bedroom-blog-082408/>