What She Did Right: Taking Time

My room is dark and a pile of used tissues lay next to my damp pillow. I hear a gentle knock at the door and my mom tells me that dinner is ready. I tell her I'm not hungry. A couple minutes later I hear another knock and my mom enters my room with a concerned look on her face. She sits at the foot of my bed and gently rubs my leg as she quietly listens to me as try to explain in high pitched voice interrupted by the occasional sob what is the matter. She obviously hasn't eaten dinner and there are things on her to do list that still need to be done, but I can tell that all of her attention is focused me and my problem. I can't remember what these problems were that felt so insurmountable at the time, but I can remember that she listened, that she cared, and somehow magically knew what to say to make it better.