Month: December 2016

Today is a happy day. My daughter is getting married today. My precious third child. My youngest. I smile as I watch my son-in-law caress her gently on the cheek. Taking a moment for themselves amidst the attention of their friends. It is their day after all.

The reception is tastefully decorated. Polaroids hung on raffia string allow friends and family insights into the couple’s life. Showing how they grew up. How they met. I do not need the photographs of my daughter, of course. I was there. I was always there.

My daughter is beautiful at thirty-six. I already had her when I was thirty-six. But this is another generation. She had dreams to pursue before wedding bells called. I wonder if she will give me a grandchild.

I shed a tear. My family sees me crying. They nod knowingly. Mothers are meant to cry at their daughter’s wedding. They know of love, but they do not know. That love is my breast removed. Cancer metastasized. That love is bad news unsaid. Kept inside. That love is. Love is. Love.

The color of the leaves was brighter. The green intensified by the previous night’s rain. Strangers walked nonchalantly over the damp painted concrete floor.

I adjusted my wool scarf as wind blew through the train station. My fingers were numb despite the gloves. I perused the railway timetable, conscious that missing the Shinkansen meant a two hour wait for the next train. The timetable was clear. 8.27 am, train leaves for Osaka.

I glanced around the train station and wondered where Sarah was. She wanted to grab a few souvenirs and asked that I head first to the train platform. That was fifteen minutes ago.

I watched a cleaning crew enter an awaiting train and proceed to work with military precision. The Japanese crew finished their work within minutes and the train accelerated out the station seconds later.

Sarah appeared up the stairs lugging a new shopping bag and a cup of coffee. She almost stumbled at the top of the stairs. I was glad she did not fall. I found her awkward physicality strangely charming.

I had first met Sarah a month ago. She was nursing an Old Fashioned. Hurt by my ex, I had asked Sarah to join me on a holiday to Japan. I was surprised that she agreed. I was careful to book separate rooms. I now wondered why I did so.

“What did you buy?”

“Tokyo Banana. Want one?”

“No. It’s okay.”

Sarah passed me the coffee cup.

“For you.”

I took a grateful sip of the steaming coffee.

I turned around and Sarah was gone. Again. I surveyed the train platform and spotted her wandering about twenty meters away exploring a novelty shop. She was like a child at times. Ever curious. I struggled towards her, dragging luggage by my side. One medium sized backpack mine, two large trolley bags hers.

“Train almost leaving.”

I rested the trolley bags and tapped Sarah incessantly on her shoulder. She turned around holding a purple feather boa. Without warning, she wrapped the boa around us and took out her iPhone for a photo. I was trapped.

“Train leaving!”

Sarah was oblivious. She busied herself deciding which camera mode to use, urging me to look at the iPhone screen. l was definitely looking. I saw the cleaning crew emerge from the train we were meant to take. I saw them take a disciplined bow in front of their supervisor as Sarah pondered which Instagram photo filter to use. I saw the train doors close. I held my hand out helplessly as the train dashed out the iPhone screen.

“Done and uploaded! Let’s get on the train! I’m cold!”

My hand hung in the air.

“Let’s go! I’m cold!”

I let out a short chortle, startling Sarah.

I brushed back my hair with my hand, wondering what I would do with this girl. I took off my gloves and offered them to her. She refused the gloves, indicating that I would then be cold. I looked at the train station clock. It would be quite a wait before the next train. I asked if she would like some hot chocolate.  She nodded. Her enthusiasm unaffected.

I pointed in the general direction of the coffee shop. I took her hand in mine. The first time I felt her skin.