A month ago, in one of the cupboards of the parents' house, we found some old tapes, from 1992 to 1998. In the videos we mainly show the two sisters, young parents and some relatives who are no longer alive. I was surprised to see my mother with her three-month-old son, or my older 8-year-old sister when I was a child, because I didn't know him that way: little, charlatan and constantly behind me, willing to care and play. Many things have changed from those times. As nostalgic would say, everything seemed more beautiful before (it is costing me to adapt to the maturity model of capitalism). However, there is a change that I am very proud of: the language of communication between the two sisters. At home we have always been done in Spanish, and that has not changed. But my sister and I made the decision and the responsibility to communicate in Basque about ten years ago. This disruption of habits was an effort, as removing it from the comfort situation is an effort; rare and difficult at first, but possible change and maintenance and enjoyment over time.