WHAT MATTERS

‘They do love you. Deep down inside.’

‘I know they do’, I sighed as I sipped my Croatian coffee this morning.

‘I wish they do come, so you could be happy.’

‘I’m happy that you’re here’, I tried to reassure my son.

Sometimes it seems he is trying to make up for the situation. For his sisters not being here. He feels responsible for their choosing not to continue with the living arrangements as we had followed for the past seven years. Every other week, as stated in our custody order. The element of revenge is certainly present, but we still must keep moving forward and making the best with the given situation at the moment.

We finished our simple breakfast of avocado toast and then hurried out the door for school. Halfway up the hill towards the gate, my son realized he forgot his mask and then had to run all the way upstairs to the third floor and back into our apartment. I stayed outside guarding his heavy backpack and the saxophone in its case. We then hurried across the street to the middle school, with three minutes left before the bell rang.

On any other day, I would already be at work. But today was different. Last week when he asked if I would take today off, I said ‘No, it doesn’t matter’. My son replied with ‘Of course it matters.’ Then I thought of the example I was setting with my not putting myself first and showing him that I don’t matter. So, I asked for today off from work and am happy that I did.

With my headphones on and music playing, I took my time walking back home. I walked all the way around the back of the middle school parking lot, past the tennis courts, up the hill towards the baseball field, and all the way around the back of the high school, past the line of five yellow school buses. I enjoy that walk but rarely get that chance to take it after having had to return to the office early in the mornings.

I didn’t have too much planned for the day other than baking a cake. My son wanted to bake it, but since he had school and we had an earlier kickboxing class, I told him I would make a cake today and he can bake me one this weekend. But first, I needed lemons and whipping cream, as well as some more food for school and work. I didn’t need the spray roses in a beautiful sunset orange colour, but I bought them anyway.

Once back home, I measured the ingredients and brought the eggs, cream, and ricotta to room temperature whilst the melted butter cooled on the counter. In the meantime, I started watching a new movie on ZDF, but lost my focus on it as I embarked upon a discussion of parental alienation and my future endeavours.

For the most part, I have little patience for sitting and watching something for an extended amount of time. I prefer an interesting exchange of thoughts instead. At some point, I also chopped up an onion, celery, carrots, and red bell peppers for the lentil soup we ended up having after class tonight. It had been months since I had last cooked any kind of soup.

The cake was out of the oven at the precise time that my son’s final school bell rang. Since we live directly across the street from school, we can hear all the bells, though most times we simply tune it out. As my son walked inside, I heard the loud thud of his backpack followed by words of hatred towards having to go to school as well as being assigned an endless amount of homework in seventh grade. I wish I could make things easier for him, but that is simply something that needs to be done. A chapter in our lives that we need to finish in order to get to next book in the series of our lives.

Though he could have just sat on the sofa to play Minecraft on his iPad, he started playing his saxophone instead. Now that the soup was on the stove and the cake was out of the oven, I decided to sit on the sofa and listen to him play for the next 45 minutes. Shortly after that, there was a knock on our door.

To my surprise and absolute delight, my two beautiful daughters stood before me and wished me a happy birthday. I wasn’t sure I would see them today and I know it was only for an hour, but I cherished the time we had and am very grateful for the time we had together.

‘Do you want to open your present?’ Not only did they come to see me, but they got me a present.

‘Your being here is the only present I need. Thank you!’

‘Do you want cake?’. It was a silly question, I know. Of course, they wouldn’t turn down cake and at that point I was glad that I bothered to make one. As I grabbed two more plates and forks, my son opened the numbered candles he bought me and put them on the cake. Then all three children sang ‘Happy Birthday’, and we devoured all but two slices of my favourite ricotta cake. A recipe I wrote for my older daughter’s sixth birthday which we celebrated in Berlin all those many years ago.

The time passed by too quickly, with the girls filling me in on their school schedules and other activities. My older daughter showed me a photo of an orange and white striped bikini that she sewed all by herself. When I asked if they’d like to go to the coffeehouse that we discovered the last time I saw them, they let me know that they had plans with friends all weekend long. At least I had today, I thought, and that was what matters now. The future is yet to come. Still unknown, with endless possibilities.

An hour later, the time came to leave for kickboxing class. If it wasn’t part of my son’s school requirement for off-campus physical education, I would have skipped the class to spend another 20 minutes with my daughters. But I was very grateful for that time I had with them. With all three of my children, if only for an hour. Thank you, my children.

We went to our class, ate lentil soup after our showers, and then my son handed me the birthday card that he took the time to make. He seemed pleased that he managed to make me cry. In a good way. His words were beautiful and thoughtful:

‘…I love to see you smile and I love when your happy. You are such an awesome Mother and you took such care of us. I don’t care if you are rich or poor. I still love you. I would rather live with a person that love and cares for me than a person that does not. but always remember that I love you and that I always will. even if I mad at you I will always love you.’