Kids love full houses. Voices. And people. And playing. Laughing. Games and big tables. Snacks and treats.
Maybe it’s the hardest part. The one that says, on a daily basis, it’s just the two of us.
Just him and me.
And seeing him missing something. The people. The voices. The fun. The funny part of life. Missing his friends as soon as we are back home. Missing his grand-parents as soon as they are back home.
When I feel down, I feel guilty.
But some days are good. Some days are even great fun. Just the two of us.
But I know he is in need of something more. So we go out. And spend days with family. And we meet people. And I try not to feel blue too often, or at least leave the blues for later. When he is in bed. And I remember the chance we have to be where we are.
She left with the first train of the morning. She pushed the door, silently, holding her shoes in one hand and the bag with her belongings in the other. For she knew it was time. Time to turn a page, there was no more space for her in the relationship they had created.
No goodbye. She would not understand. She would believe it was fear, when it was only love taking its chance.
The moon could still be seen in the sky, covered with patches of light, stars shining, showing her the way. What would happen next? She had no idea. She was ready for a new life, but could not tell which one. She would ride to the north and wait. She would ask her heart whether to turn right of left. She had no plan. She would go with the wind, let it carry her wherever she meant to be.