My mother and I did not "mix." I chose a typical teenage solution to the problem--silence.

I would leave for school in the morning, come home to eat, then leave again. When I was finally home late at night, I read books.

Invariably, my mother would come downstairs and ask me if I wanted a sandwich. I grunted my assent. She cooked egg and bacon sandwiches for me night after night until I left home for good.

Years later, when our relationship was mended, she told me why she had made all those sandwiches. "If you would ever talk to me, it was while I made that sandwich," she said.

I've learned love is found in a consistent display of interest, commitment, sacrifice, and attention.