My children try hard to make sure they visit me on special days like mother’s day and my birthday and Christmas, particularly now that I moved back close to them as per their request. I had moved away from everything for four years. Believe it or not it was easier then. It was easier because I didn’t have to worry about them showing up. I didn’t have to worry that they might find me in an emotional mess, see that mother of theirs that died and was born again after leaving their father into some strange lost being. Yet I was lost when I was with them as a family too because as much as I did what I could to be the best mom and wife, I could never be “that best mom and wife”. Now I was just a pathetic single mom somewhere out there that after four years my daughter didn’t have to watch break over and over and over again. I did it all alone. It was appealing. It was like a sanctuary. I still do all that alone, except when they decide to come by. I’m not always a mess, but my children make me nervous and I don’t know how to handle that. They are a reminder of all my failures, of all the love I feel, of all the times I tried, and of the horrifying things their father said about me as a mother during the divorce. I never said anything mean about him as a father. I felt betrayed.
This picture is the shadows of me and my children. My shadow reminds me of a beautiful caricature a friend of mine drew. I can’t publish it here, but wish I could, and it was about reading guides on how to fly. I think the character was a caterpillar. I think I know the ending that was never written. But that ending I keep hoping for, and I believe in growing wings. Just not sure if it happens here.