Time...is not always on my side

I'm always baffled at how incredibly busy my life has become and how I always used to considered time as more than fleeting.  Perhaps it's the age I'm at, being past 35 and no longer being in the "immortal" state of mind. In your twenties, you're always looking ahead but also always living in the now.  You have minor plans, but nothing major.  You're not ruled by anyone other than perhaps your friends, work and if you have one, your partner.  You might be saving up for a house, but you most likely don't own one yet, and if you do, it's your first mortgage and your consumer debt is fairly low.

If someone says, let's go on a roadtrip this weekend, in your twenties you'd say "Yeehaaa!  I'm in!" without a moments thought.  If something else was planned, you'd either excuse yourself or just not show up.  What does it matter anyway, you're only 22!

In your thirties, with a child, mortgage, consumer debt, bills, and a job, you're constantly checking your schedule because there might just be a birthday party you're suppose to attend with your daughter, or there's a lack of funds flowing in at that particular moment because you just had to repair your furnance. Whatever it is, your response is not "Yeehaa!", it's more like "Oh.  I don't know. Let me get back to you."

I wish I could yell Yehaa! some days, but most of the days, I'm happy to say "Let me get back to you". I don't mind plans made in advance, because I can savour the moment when I'm going to go see the girls with a bottle of wine and some tapas, or that weekend retreat without my darling girl seems rather intruiging, but I don't have the luxury of being spontaneous to the fullest and frankly, I'm ok with that.

I don't waste my time often.  I do head to bed earlier than I used to because between work, commuting and making sure my girl is alright and tucked in, I'm tuckered out by 9pm.  I'm ok with that as well.  Chances are I'm in bed reading, not really sleeping.  It's my time.  Ida time.

I'm also less spontaneous because I prefer my home to any other place in the world.  Sure, a weekend in a hotel somewhere luxurious is positively amazing, but home is where my heart is.  It's where I am at peace.

So, time is a luxury and I urge everyone to slow down and not wish time away.  Ever.

My mom is a Star

Yesterday I once again experienced the purity of a child's mind.  Where stories come to life and wild beasts roam freely and superheros saves the day, but also where life and death can be so cutthroat even without the superheros and villains. 

Emma has known for a long time that my mother is no longer with us, that she died and is in heaven.  I figured that one day she would ask some very distinct questions and I would hopefully be brave enough to answer them.  That moment was yesterday. 

It's funny though that the story begins with Superman. 


"Mom, you had a bad dream about Superman when you were little like me, right?"

"I did, Superman swooped in to my bedroom and took me flying, away from my mom and dad."

"What happened then?"

"Well, I woke up and screamed for my mom who came and gave me a really big hug and a kiss and made it all better."

(Silence from the back of the car)

"What's your mom's name?"

"Britt"

"Britt isn't here anymore, is she?"

"No sweetie, my mommy died."

"She's in heaven, you told me that."

"She is, for sure she is.  She's looking down on us and she's always with us."

"Do you miss her?" 

"I  miss her all the time sweetie pie."

(Sobs from the backseat)

"I miss her too mommy."

"You know what though Emma, she's up in heaven and she's making sure we're ok, every single day."

"She's with the stars?"

"She is a star."

"Can we look at her when  we stop the car?"

"You mean, find the star in the sky that's my mom?"

"Yes"

"Of course we can.  We'll say good night to her"

This is when my heart kind of constricted and my breathing stopped.  I'd never really thought of how this would affect my little girl.  How she would one day make the connection that daddy has a mommy and daddy, but where's mommy's mommy.

Emma was sad for a long time that evening.  We spent the time in bed reading books but also looking at old photos of me and my mom, Auntie Karin, my dad and my grandmother.

Although Emma will never meet my mom, I know that my mom is always with her.