WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO BE A MOM

for my one and only, ever beloved Beri.

IT'S THE FIRST TIME I'm letting my girl walk to school alone, I'm terrified. I watch her walk down the busy street and disappear into a crowd of people, who suddenly seem strange and dangerous, even though they are just going to work, or school, anywhere but probably with good intention. To me though, they are horrific and I hate every one of them because they could be a possible threat for my baby.

She turns around curiously, just to check if I'm watching her, I am. I smile, trying to mask all the dramatic imaginations that are bubbling in my head as she turns a corner and disappears from my sight. She's so tiny, I know that if anyone wanted to kidnap her right now, they could just simply lift her up and tuck her in their bag. I'm sweating just thinking about it and I feel my stomach churn.

I should walk to school now too, but I stand still, hoping she won't forget to text me she's arrived safely. I think of our afternoons together, how we sit on my bed and she's talking about her day at school, how she asks me stuff she wouldn't ask anyone else and how she confesses about little things she's done and feels guilty about, like buying candy after school, or downloading a game that our mom might find inappropriate. And she speaks to me with so much trust it makes me tear up.

To make things clear, I am not a mom. I did not give birth to her. She’s my sibling, my little sister but after our parents’ divorce, we’ve grown closer than ever before and created a bond that feels unbreakable and probably even is. And now when it's seven in the morning and I'm standing on a street, with her nowhere to be seen anymore, trembling in fear and nervosity, I feel like her actual mother. And wonder how can such a painful thing as a divorce create something so beautiful, dedicated and honest as the relation between us two. Suddenly, I get a text from her. It says “I'm here.” meaning she's at school, safe and sound. Nothing's happened, she's walked to school by herself, for the first time in her life. And I feel my tensed muscles relax and I notice I've been sweating the whole time. I look at the time and realise I'm late for school. But to me, that doesn't matter at all, because no class in the whole world could ever be more important than her.

I come home, and she walks downstairs and greets me with her genuine smile. I ask her about the morning, she replies with “It was okay.’’ in the calmest voice ever, as if this big step didn't mean a thing. Little does she know I almost died projecting all possible ways of her tragic deaths in my mind. Later that day we sit on a sofa, she's snuggled up in her fuzzy bathrobe we bought together, watching TV. A few minutes into ‘the Simpsons’ and I feel her little head leaning on me, she's falling asleep slowly and the trust she puts in me is almost tangible. Her breath slows down and I wonder and think if I'm ever going to love someone as much as I love her.

this is not something i would normally post but this is a story i wrote for a book that is being published by my school now and i thought i'd share it with you too.

gretavbc