There were years that went by in my 30’s where I could count with one hand the number of times when I’d speak with my parents. Due to unexpected circumstances, I found myself living in another country, leaving my parents back home.
Initially, we’d talk everyday. That gradually turned to once a week and dwindled to once a month. Next thing you know, I allowed the trivialities of life to take over which made me pick up the phone on their birthday, my birthday, Christmas and a handful of times when I’d remember.
I allowed myself to forget.
One year, I decided to change things and I literally had to schedule it on my calendar. Every other weekend to start.
It was awkward at first. We grew apart from years of lack of regular conversations and I’d always feel nervous before I called. I was wondering what on earth could we possibly talk about. It sounds ridiculous, I know. But that’s how I felt.
But each time I called, the conversations would just flow. And next thing you know, we’d be yapping about anything and everything under the sun for at least an hour, sometimes two.
It feels great each time I talk to them. I was actually learning about all the little things going on in their lives and vice versa. Whereas if you asked me in my 30’s how my parents were, I would’ve drawn a blank.
I’m happy I made the change, as embarrassing as it is to admit that I had to schedule them on my calendar. Whatever, it worked.