Pinot, Bretzels, and Cathedrals

I turn into the wind, adjust my scarf and lift my coat collar to block the cutting chill that seemed to race down between the buildings on either side of the train lines. Beneath my feet, battered and bruised autumn leaves lie, and above my head is a ceiling of grey cloud. They’re too high up to set up a nice backdrop and my planned walk for a photo recce now means I’m just in for a walk through the square to my place of work.

I won’t lie- I feel disappointed in myself that I can’t fulfill even this tiny little goal for the day. Sighing inwardly, I realise that I feel slightly incomplete in this moment, that I’m unable to give everything of my best to at least one job I do- be it time; love or energy that I don’t seem to have to give out. Where did this void come from; this fatigue? It’s not like I’ve given up. It’s just there’s too much to find concern for. Right now, not only do I feel like a slab of Emmenthal cheese, I also feel like an elastic band stretched across the 10 fingers of a girl playing in the school yard.

***

This morning after rising at 6:30, all four of us converged in our kitchen, the girls quickly helping themselves to a bowl of yoghurt, the coffee machine gurgling and frothing it’s cappuccino and espressos. I stumble in comme d’habitude, bleary eyed and still stiff from a long busy evening at the pub. Methodical, quiet, a routine now 3 weeks old, Alex helps herself to toast, fills up her water bottle and a small tub of almonds and raisins to see her through her long day and disappears to make her bed and change out of her pyjamas. Already this new level of maturity is obvious and I can rest assured that her bag is already packed for school. I glance at the clock- she has 20 minutes now before she needs to leave to catch her bus. It’s so early, and I know she’ll only be home in 12 hours time. Again I wonder if I’m being spiteful in my reserve that we’re not going to move closer to the city, closer to their school, just to make their journey there easier. But then I remember yesterday when Alex messaged me to say that she was on the bus that it was packed and she had to stand. 7:15 in the morning and already public transport is full, filled up with other teeny little school-kids all doing the very same trip, also all on their own. I must remember that she’s not alone in her challenges, that what I expect of her is normal enough for the lives we now lead. As I had idly stirred my coffee, I realise with immense relief and pride how incredible our Alex is. She has an infinite amount of patience and pride in what’s now expected of her. She seems to love the independence while at the same time relishes being able to chat with me from afar. I know that in 30 minutes when Beth and I would begin our walk down to the bus stop, my phone would buzz with messages from her “I’m on the tram Mom”. “I’m at the last stop Mom”. “I’m outside the school gates Mom. Love you. Chat later”. She may even phone me once or twice to tell me that she saw so-and-so on the bus and that there was at accident near the park…. she craves being able to connect with me and I love her for it.

***

Suddenly a loud cursing shakes me from my reverie. I’ve been so lost in my thoughts that I’m meandering across the Square like a toddler, and an extremely grumpy cyclist is incapable of passing around me. Are we all so impatient these days? So harassed with keeping up with the flow that we forget to be kind, even just a little bit? But I get it, the need to push ourselves to overcome little obstacles that somehow end up in the way; to fight for your place in this world. Stopping in my tracks, I lift a hand in apology to the cyclist who is now out of his seat with his feet firm on the cobblestones because he’s had to come to a stop behind me. 

I remember the source of my rather grey mood.

***

Yesterday was Monday.  It’s the other day of the week that everything I do is for somebody else.  It’s the day I leave home at 7h30, the three hours I have off between shifts at work is spent travelling on the bus, just enough time to be home for 45 minutes so that I can put clothes into the washing machine, and see if I can rustle up a salad to accompany the  lasagne that Anton had made the evening before.  Barely enough time to even have a cup of tea, I’m out the door again so I can collect Beth after her extra french class.  Her Monday at school now ends at 17h30, and as always, the short trip from school to my place of work is fraught with rain and other rush-hour commuters, all of us trying to keep a level head, all of us trying not to snap at the delivery guys taking a chance and putting their bikes onto the tram to avoid the inclement weather.  Beth, as upbeat and cheerful as ever (how grateful am I that she indeed LOVES her dragon teacher? ) has not stopped chattering, about how she’s running to be a cafeteria representative, about the party she’s been invited to, about so much that my mind drifts away.  But then we’re at the pub for 10 minutes, Beth has greeted all of my colleagues  that seem to love and adore her, and Alex is now on the phone to say she’s leaving school and is on her way home.  Quickly I hustle Beth- she needs to wrap up against the cold weather, collect her bags, I ask her for the umpteenth time if she has her travel pass, and I walk the 10 steps to the tram stop that will take her to meet Alex who will come from the opposite direction.  Together, they will take the bus home, arriving there around 19h00.  I start up in the kitchen, firing up the fryers and ovens, and now my phone rings for the first time- Beth is at Republique, where is Alex she asks?  I don’t know. Phone her.  My phone rings again.  It’s Alex, her tram is slow but she’s coming.  Another phone call. Beth, panic starting slightly in her voice, Mom, it’s nearly six-thirty, where is Alex?  I need to be patient with her, get her to calm down, I can’t do anything, even though we are barely 1 kilometer apart.  I call Alex. She says her tram is just coming round the corner, she’s not sure if she will be able to be at the bus stop before her bus leaves. My head racing a little now, I worry that she’s going to push out of the tram carriage, push past commuters and run across the other tram lines without thinking.  I tell her calmly to not stress, to not rush.  There will be another bus in 15 minutes.  Another phone call back to Beth.  I tell her the same thing, to just chill.  Finally, a call 5 minutes later to say they’re on the 18h30 bus and are en route home.  I now have another 25 minutes before I can start expecting another call from them, to tell me they’re off the bus and are home.

With so much going on in my head, I have forgotten that my favourite colleague has returned to work after her leave that evening.  Finally I am able to greet her, but there’s no time to sit and have our dinner together tonight.  The pub is buzzing with a random Monday vibe and I am being kept busy.  Sooner than expected, my phone rings, the girls are safely home and want to know if they can watch television.  Snapping at them, I tell them to do their homework for goodness sake, even if it’s to just read a bloody book, but I’m grateful they are home.  As I hang up, my eyes move to the restaurant space, and I see another colleague has arrived for a drink.  This colleague is the Drama Queen.  The day before she was at work venting all levels of anger and frustration, to anyone who could listen.  I felt it had been bad taste, and now I see her coming back to do the same thing, on a day where she should have been curled up with her boyfriend, or even just going somewhere else for apero, anywhere else but the place that she seemed to hate.  I ignore her, I don’t have time for her tonight.  She has other plans though, and 2 hours later she is still sitting at the bar mouthing off about other colleagues and peers, dragging down the general vibe of the rest of us. 

Much later that evening, I head home.  It was 22h45 before I could sign out, and after all the emotions that had been flooding over me all day long, I am exhausted.  And now this morning, I haven’t been able to shake it off.

As much as all of the above reads like a story- I even wrote it in italics to try convey this in a light manner- all of it really did happen.  The first semester at school this year has been tough, tough with new experiences, and my own body has been in what feels like overdrive in but fourth gear.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going through anything that anyone else hasn’t gone through. This is not new and I don’t want to sound like life is tough.  We ALL have moments, days and months that seem to be a pit of life-sapping fuel.  How am I dealing with it?  I’m trying to be kind to myself.  I’m taking time for myself (AKA binge-watching This Is Us on Amazon Prime), and I’m hoping that soon I will be out taking runs in the forest and catching up on some sewing as soon as I’m over the torn muscles in my back.  All I can do for my girls is to be there for them.  They will learn as they grow up, but if my head is somewhere else, I won’t be.

Autumn is now coming to an end.  I have enjoyed some occasions where I have taken the girls to the park with my camera and HAVE had some good lighting.  We are in a smooth routine now, and even Beth is able to do the trip home from school on her own (so long as somebody else is at home).  She is allowed one solo journey home on a Friday.  This gives both of us a little leeway- I have the afternoon at home between work shifts, and she gets to assert her much wanted independence.  I trust her to do the right thing, because she won’t learn otherwise.  Alex’s time in college is a fairly big step-up.  She has to commute between classrooms now, she has to fill gaps in her days if there happens to be one, and she has to be responsible for all of her work.  And it’s not every day that she has to be out on her own by 7am to head to the bus.  There are mornings that Anton can take the car and drop her at school by 7h45!

As for me, work is work, with its ups and downs.  Same for Anton, although he’s busy with travel and training until the end of the year.  This is a few weeks away though, so all will be good.

Anyway, I have kept you here long enough.  Wish you had some time to drop me a line, but since it’s taken me 6 weeks to write this, I know that life does go on.  I do hope to be in touch before Christmas.

Take care, and all my love,

Gaenor

Xxx