Although nothing changed, she knew
their mornings will never be the same. Each day, she
still prepared his two eggs and three strips of bacon, they drank coffee while exchanging
small talk about the other day and watched the morning news. Then, she packed his lunch: a
turkey sandwich with ranch dressing and he left for work. They did this routine throughout
the years, alternating breakfasts and sandwich dressings every couple of years. And yet,
something was unsettling.
“Have a great day, dear”- Wency said, kissing her husband stiffly on the cheek. Today, she
was impatient. Her eyes followed anxiously the husband’s car as it left the driveway. For a
second, she hesitated. Then, in a quick and watchful manner she tiptoed up the creaking
wooden stairs. She knew she shouldn`t, and yet she watched her delicate, veiny hand turn the
doorknob to Julia`s room. She was drawn to it. Here, nothing had changed. It was the only
place she could finally exhale, reassure herself she was real.
She breathed in the youthful smell of her daughter`s space and looked around with relief. A
tiny pair of shoes caught her eye. Julia took her first steps wearing them. Suddenly, Wency
was overwhelmed by the warmth of these memories. She remembered how much courage it
took that little human to stand on her two feet. That evening, when Julia was asleep, she and
Jamie would laugh joyfully over a glass of wine. As young parents, they were astonished by
their daughter`s innocence, and how she had to learn seemingly apparent things with such
sincere determination. From that day, they lived through her every moment – that time she
came home crying with her wounded knee, when she learned how to ride a bike, when she
caused trouble at school and hid in her closet for an entire day. When Julia was being
difficult and when she made them proud and just happy. She remembered the constant fear
for her little girl, and how it almost became unbearable when she went out to parties and
forgot to call. Every day, Wency was faced with a rollercoaster of feelings, and she would get
tired and grumpy and she and Jamie would fight over stupid things like unwashed dishes and
unwalked dogs. And now, she felt empty.
For the past eighteen years, she was certain of her role in life. Wency was a mother. She
dressed like a mother, smiled and sighed like a mother, planned like a mother. She was
painted from the perspective of her child. And now, she was just Wency. She felt like a
teenager again, trying to figure out the person behind that pimply, slouching reflection. A.
dreadful feeling she hoped she would never go through again.
As she caressed the tiny shoes, she thought about how she too had to learn to walk, eat and
sleep when Julia left for college. How do you eat your toast if you don`t have to rush to
school? How do you just take walks without worrying about making a roast for dinner, or
going to the groceries? Then, she had to learn how to be with her husband Jamie. The first
couple of weeks the house was unbearably silent. They could hear each other chew their
dinner, and gulp their wine, and flip pages of a book. It was irritable, and at the same time,
she learned to see her husband not as a father, but as Jamie – the man she had long forgotten.
That night, they had sex for the first time in a couple of years. But she still feared to be alone,
with this strange woman who was for years lost in all the diapers, lunch boxes, hair ties and
hasty Christmases. She felt uneasy around her.
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