January 27, 2011

She quickly buried her head into the comforting pillow, sobbing quietly so that her mother couldn’t hear her. When she confined herself to a slight whimper, she peered across her room to the door, which had cracked when her mother viciously slammed it. Filling with rage, Rachel stormed to her desk, ravaging its surface for tape. She wiped back continuous tears, covering the small crack in the door with the temporary adhesive. Crawling back to her bed, Rachel couldn’t figure out why her mother didn’t understand her. No longer could she express her feelings and expect kindness and acceptance in return. As her mind obsessed over the conflict, she realized it was time for dinner. Hesitantly yanking her crooked door open, she shuffled down the stairs to the table.

Once again, the frustration and anger mounted, and they were screaming at each other for no apparent reason. Rachel stomped up the stairs to her room, her mother following close behind, determined to gain respect from her daughter. When both of them realized the conflict was unable to be resolved, Rachel’s mother gave her infuriated daughter a seemingly endless lecture, and slammed the door behind her. As she did this, the brittle, copper hinge toward the top of the door broke off, shaking the door violently from its frame. From that point on, Rachel knew the door was irreparable, just like the relationship she shared with her mother.

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