Mothers and Winter are Not Compatible

My Stories

8:30 am today, I had only five minutes to get to school that is only a few meters away. They are insuperable meters when you have to feed, bathe and dress three young children. Then the counting starts before putting them on, six gloves, three wool hats, three scarves, six socks. Each of them tiny and elusive, always forgotten in every corner of the house.

I forgot their jackets and went upstairs to find them. When I came down my youngest had completely undressed. Back to the starting point. After opening the door I noticed it was colder than usual. No time to walk, we headed to the car. It was not until I fastened the seatbelts and climbed in the car myself that I noticed a thick layer of ice. I put the heater and got off with a spatula. The ice cape was thick, my hands were frozen, my words against winter were unrepeatable, it didn’t work. I climbed back again and see a message from my husband on the phone ‘no matter what, don’t put hot water on the glass’, this guy knows me well, I thought. I put the reverse on and speed up, but everything, up and down, forward and back was like a great white picture, like those of modern painters, those that we the ignorant of art don’t know how and why are those lines pointing to strange places and times. I hit a very white wall. I got off to examine the damage. Nothing serious. But when I got back in the car a sign tickling on the board. A sensor was broken. I took a deep breath thinking I would need to have that conversation with him again about I had no idea what happened to the car. School door closed. Mea culpa to the director so the kids would be able to get into class and after run with the youngest to the babysitter. As I left her house I took this picture. The sun was emerging in the cups of the trees and I was glad. I could already feel the crispy pieces of paper in which I was going to write. Three whole hours and a coffee were waiting for me at home. Better to love the days as they arrive, the winter as it is, and the mothers in return.

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