You know those moments when you think about how much you can't stand being around your mom? How you want her to just leave you alone because she is making your life miserable? What kid doesn't think that, right?

My mother and I have never been close. Sometimes I don't understand why she is the way she is, or why she makes certain decisions. Everyone always questions their mother's choices simply because we seem to think that they do everything without our best interest at heart. I learned to understand my mother, though. I learned 19 years too late.

My mother was arguing with my father like always about how we never respect her and how we take her for granted, and she was right. We do take her for granted. They yelled back and forthin during dinner and in the heat of the moment, my mother threw a plastic cup at my father. He dodged it; unfortunately my youngest sister did not. It smacked her right in the back. I remember seeing my sister rub her back while tears started to form in her eyes. I jumped off the couch so fast, my brain spun. I ran to the kitchen and went off on her as my boyfriend, father and sister held me back.

I said many hurtful insults to her, and I deeply regreted them as soon as they rolled out of my mouth. I sat in the living room crying about what I had done, when I overheard my mother sobbing while tell my father that she had some test done a while ago and that she just received the results. I tensed up. My stomach started to twist and untwist. I wanted to puke.

"I have breast cancer," she cried.

I saw a mirror break into thousands of tiny pieces falling and scattering on the floor. I realized that it wasnt a mirror that broke, it was my whole world crumbling in front of me.

Those four word, those tiny words that have a bigger meaning than any of us realize, kept repeating in my head over and over like a broken record.

How could it be? My mother has cancer. It's not possible. She can't have cancer. It's not true. No, no, no, no ,no. They must have made a mistake. It can't be her. NO!

I cried and cried and cried until there were no more tears left to spill. I wasn't as strong as I thought I was. All I wanted was to go into the kitchen and hug my mommy and tell her I was sorry. I did not want her to think I hated her. I did not want her to feel like I did not want her in my life.

I thought about how caring my mother was, how she always defended us when someone mistreated us, how she cried with me when I told her one of my deepest secrets. My mother has one of the most tender hearts out of everyone I know. She helps her friends out in times of need because she knows that if one day she is not around anymore they will lend my sisters and I a hand without thinking twice about it.

She helped out one of her friends by fostering her baby because the government saw her as an unfit mother and wanted to put her baby in the system. My mother took him in without questions because she did not want this woman to feel the pain she left when my older brother was deported; the pain of having her child being taken away from her.

I thought about how I have treated her all these years. About how I ignored her, talked back, cussed at her and how I talked about her behind her back. All I felt was ashamed, regret, disappointment in myself, and pure sadness. I was horrible to my mother, and I could not take any of it back. I have to live with my actions for the rest of my life.

To this day, I'm trying to make up for lost time with my mother. I respect her even more now, I am nicer, and I am trying to win back her trust. Our relationship is not perfect, but we are both trying.

Children these days do not know how to appreciate their parents until the day they lose them. If your mom is alive and healthy, hug her and tell her how much you love her and value all of her sacrifices because we only get one mom and a limited amount of time with her.