FESTIVAL

2010


If I could reconsider a time in my life, 2010 would be exactly the year I would explode again. If scientists have already proven that time can bend, why is it so difficult for them to figure out how to twist it in such a way as to bring us back to the moments in our past that we most wanted?

In 2010 I just gave birth to our daughter. That year I became the mother of three children under the age of four. I had two sons and a daughter. My life in 2010 was quite perfect. That same year, I had a feeling of fulfillment with motherhood that was hard to recreate, especially as our kids grew up at record-breaking speeds, leaving me annoyed and anxious to realize that one day they would leave home soon.

In 2010 we moved into our current apartment. Since then, memories have simply flowed through its walls and scattered in the air. When I watch old videos of our kids lately, perhaps an unhealthy new obsession, I see their bright faces and hear their kids pronounce and I want to reach the screen so badly and hold them so tightly that I gasp in pain from the harsh reality that my Those days will not be. Don’t get me wrong, these days are equally incredible. Indeed, every level of their childhood was a blessing full of magical memories. It’s just that as they get older, an unwanted internal clock is implanted in my brain that counts a few days before they leave us. How could they leave us?

Our two sons, who were little people in 2010, now tower over me. Their legs have become so huge that it indicates how much bigger they are waiting for. Our middle-class boy, who was once proud of jokingly “going to school”, where he learned all his agility and cuddling skills, now barely wants to touch. Just last June I still laid him on the bed, hugging him closely under the blanket when we shared secrets and when I sang him our normal sleep lullaby. Suddenly, over the last few months, the hug from the boy who hugged me the most is no longer enjoyable. With his new height came many new changes, including the death of a cuddles in a bed.

I would be perfectly fine with this natural change if they let our children run into puberty which means in my mind, to leave home. I can’t live without them in my daily life. I fear I would die of a broken heart if we had an empty home. I’m not dramatic. I’m actually afraid it will cause my death. Many parents are eagerly awaiting the moment when their children leave home so that they can enjoy life as a couple. On the other hand, I have always enjoyed my life With My kids and my husband. Staying by their side through every holiday, every adventure, every celebration has made my life so incredibly satisfying. From the first day of their birth, we have done virtually everything together. We have been inseparable since the epidemic. These are my joys, my life, my purpose, and when our children are gone, what will I leave behind?

Motherhood is my greatest achievement. I was born to parents and raised children. It’s a call I’ve always had and a journey I’ve tasted every step of the way. Our children are my best friend, travel partner, teacher and mostly my mirror. They have taught me endless lessons about me, highlighting my strengths and mainly my weaknesses. They also taught me to love deeply, intensely and not self-interest.

I am proud of who they have been. They are wonderful young adults with whom I love spending my time. Those who know me know that they are always by my side. I really love anchoring my moments with them more than anyone else in my life (well, besides my husband whom I love). They are funny, ridiculous, honest (often harshly), interesting, inspiring, ambitious, kind, loyal, sympathetic and offer me the necessary growth in my daily life. But they will not stop growing. And that means they will leave us soon. Only then will I begin to die slowly and painfully. I know my heart cannot bear the lack of their regular presence. I don’t understand the hard truth that one day soon they won’t enter the kitchen and chat with us regularly at the dining room table. It seems so unfair! Really a cruel joke. For their stay and for their love and for their eighteen years of life every second of every moment sinks into my every ounce and then they go away! What then? For them, I pray that all their dreams come true. I wish for them to marry someone who loves them like my husband and I love each other and as much as the two of us love them. I dream that they feel a lot of adventure and laughter and joy. I imagine that they are free from social restrictions and ignorant of the judgments that others want to impose on them. But what does my future look like? I’m crying on the couch waiting for my phone to ring just to hear their voices.

It has been three days since I stopped crying. Probably the nerves to move have started to kick. Maybe I shouldn’t have seen so many old videos from the past. Although I can’t help myself. 2010 was the beginning of the most beautiful moment of my life. I continue to be quite happy in 2021. In fact, I would occasionally go back any year. I just fear 2024, 2026, 2028, the years that I will slowly begin to break down because the best years of my life will stop. I will be forced to convince myself by the encouraging efforts of others, that the best years are yet to come but I will know deeply, I will not be the same as before.

For now, I am breathing the memories we have created in this house. I breathe so desperately that with every deep breath a memory will enter my cell to make sure I don’t forget a few moments. After Amazon delivery they will hop in all the empty boxes and I will close the boxes saying that we are sending them to grandparents and they will break down relentlessly. Or the moment our son grabs a napkin over the air conditioner unit it will happily fly through the air. Or hours after hours we spent bathing together, watching movies, eating, dancing, reading stories, playing with their train, having tea parties, playing board games, hiding in marathons, baking, painting, playing. Shaving cream, making slim, painting, playing instruments, celebrating birthdays, entertaining friends … there are endless, gorgeous moments hidden in the air. When people admire us in our apartment, they don’t realize that the air they are feeling is not a visual effect of love, our decor or layout. Leaving this apartment is starting to feel like abandoning the memories we created. I feel like I’m moving away from their childhood.

I am so grateful that I was able to give up my job to raise my children. I have zero regrets about sticking to something over the years because I was able to concentrate on creating a family unit that I always dreamed of. There is no sense of “abandonment” and absolutely no remorse for postponing a career. None of those popular feminist stories enter my mind. In my mind, it is clear that the only way I have chosen is to raise our children and spend as much time with them humanely as possible. I was blessed to have the opportunity to spend One hundred thousand Hours with them, do not miss a beat. With that choice, comes the painful reality that when it comes time for them to swell on their own, I will leave a huge void in my heart. Still, if I could do it, I would do it again.

As tears flowed down my keyboard as I sat here typing and about twenty napkins wet in the snot were thrown a few inches away. It seems impossible to leave this place behind as we move forward. I can’t let go. This apartment is our memory. I have millions of memories before we leave there is no way to breathe. Just don’t have enough time.

I know there will be new memories. New start. New adventures. I know all this. I know that hopefully many happy times will come when they will become adults in their own marriages and grandchildren please Gd. I know I will somehow survive and find a way to fulfill my days. I know all this. This knowledge does not soften the recognition though that my time with them is limited and the clock is ticking perfectly. Therefore, I continue to build strong memories so that when they are gone I can see back that we spent the best years of our lives together. My years with them in our home will be absolutely incomparable in the years to come without them under our roof. In the meantime, please let me be apprehensive, just this once. I’m in the throes of a broken heart healing and dealing with the frustration of a failed attempt to build a time machine নয় not to mention the panic mode of packing up and breathing in eleven years of the best memories of my life. My short-term goal is to ulp these memories in my lungs and expel them with all my might, once we reach our new home in San Diego in the hope that they will survive in the air we will breathe west.

I’m grateful that the clock is in mode, works as an incredibly memorable one for the last three years with our eldest son staying with us for the last three years before going to college, but I just wish it didn’t tick so loud I find a way to m Hope to get so that I can peacefully concentrate here and now and imagine myself that these days will last forever.



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