THE FIRST DAY

“We’re staying here, Mémère! Can I have some ice cream?” Five year old Bali smiled up at me.

“Mommy and Daddy are in separation, so we’ll be living here sometimes now.” Nalou added his comment calmly. It was late Friday night. My son had just arrived with the boys after a day with friends at the lake. The two oldest rug rats were with me in the kitchen; Daddy had carried the sleeping baby upstairs to bed.

“No ice cream before bedtime, Bali,” I answered him. “But Mémère has other snacks.” I motioned them to come closer so that they could choose. I put my hand on the oldest boy’s shoulder

“That’s okay, Nalou. Mémère is alone here, so it will be nice to have you guys around. The house is big enough – we have lots of room.”

“And we can run and run!” piped up Bali. He had made his choice and stood eating it, grinning from ear to ear.

Nalou had started eating too. The more serious of the two, he thought for a moment, then added “And Smooch will learn to play with us.” We turned to look at the pup. He was standing on the gallery, staring inside, his tail going a mile a minute. His habit of jumping up when he is excited would keep him out there for now. My son and I had already decided that we would introduce the rambunctious and very big puppy slowly, not only to keep the boys from misunderstanding his intentions and learning to fear him, but also to avoid any accidents. With Grump there was no problem; he was gentle, and the rug rats and he already knew each other.

We chatted about their afternoon for a short while before their dad called them up to bed too; nothing more was mentioned about the separation. My son looked exhausted when he joined me afterwards. He had worked long hours all week, there was the energy required for tending the children, and his emotions are on the edge with the change forced upon him. When a text came in from his ex-lady, telling him she wanted to meet him for discussion, he shook his head.

“I’m so damned tired,” he said. “But she’s insisting, so I’d better go.”

“No!” This from the mother who swore she would not get involved. I handed him the phone. “Call her and tell her to come here. You’ve had the boys all day. You can talk in the living room – it’s private – and you are too beat to drive. She’s been on vacation all week.” When he hesitated, I thrust the phone closer.

“Call!” I repeated. He did. She came, and I closed myself in my office to leave them in peace.

More than an hour later, my son and I shared a nightcap, the doggies at our feet. His lady was having second thoughts; has decided that she loved him after all. He was uncertain – this has happened twice now. He’s not so ready to acquiesce this time. When he finished speaking, we sat in silence, each deep in thought.

“I’ll need to take time to think on this,” he said. At the same moment I was saying “No hurry. Take your time to think about it.” We stopped – mother and son, so much alike – and looked at each other.

And we SMILED.

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.