Day 13 – Motherhood IV

Over the last few months, I have been so lucky to foster and share a beautiful relationship with one of my mum’s friends. Thirty five years of friendship, and one year of unbiased and unconditional motherhood. If anything, this special relationship has taught me that family is not always blood related.

Over the years, I have heard so many stories about Christine (and mum’s other catering college friends). Mum always praised her ambition and dedication to her family and work, and how it was something to strive for. Even though we hadn’t met until last year, I knew enough to know that she was special. Today, I know with certainty, she is more than special.

Part IV: Chris Sr aka Mama Fernandes aka Nan

She exclaims with pride, “I was married at 22, had my first child at 23.” We were watching tv the other day when I asked her if she would’ve done things differently had she been in a similar situation today. Would it be mind over heart? Work over family? I explained how most of my friends today want to wait and would think 23 is too young. At 23, we barely know ourselves. How do you know you’re ready for marriage or children? She didn’t pause, she didn’t think, she just said, “We knew when it was right and saw no point in waiting. I don’t see why anyone would. And even today, I don’t see why one should because you can always have the best of both worlds.”

This is Christine. My foster mom, guide and source of inspiration. My home away from home.

Christine opened her arms, home and heart to me when I first moved to Australia. What at the time was a short-term plan suddenly turned into home (even Christmas apart wasn’t too easy). I have watched family turn on their own so often. Here, I watched a lady who hadn’t even met me, open her doors and trust me. She didn’t have to but she did anyway with no filters or expectations. If this isn’t motherhood, what is?

Christine is a pocketful of sunshine – full of love, light and laughter. Each day in the Fernandes household is a treat – especially watching her go from being hangry to happy, or gutted to giggly (no Xav?). I feel to grateful to have these days and dreams.

I am a strong believer of fate. I believe that everything in our lives happens for a reason. I was meant to meet you and now you’re never allowed to leave. Thank you for sharing even a little bit of your life with me.

Our special relationship has taught me that you can choose your family, and you’re mine.

Happy Mother’s Day Mama (Nan) Fernandes!

Thank you Mama Correia, for your friends who are now family.

Today’s tune: I’m Yours by Jason Mraz.

Day 13 – 16 May 2017.
353 days to go.

Thanks for listening and if you relate, say hello, please and thank you.

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Day 8 – Hero Honda CD 100

I had a dream today.

I was in a daze. I woke up (in my dream), back home in Goa lying on the white mosaic tiles in the living room. I could feel the cold hard tiles against my skin and bones. So I turned over and looked out of the window. I was a child again, and it was as if nothing had changed. I was looking up at the skylight tiles when I heard it. His bike roared in the distance as I rolled on the floor. It had this distinct sound that set it apart from the rest.

So I ran to the door and opened it before he could reach the driveway. I was at the gate in the next minute, unlocking it and waiting for him. I looked up at the mango tree and this summer’s produce and smiled thinking he would love it too. I could hear the bike get closer and I could feel my heart beating to the rhythm of the engine. Fast.

How could this be?

He was coming back after so long. It didn’t make sense, even in the dream. We were used to him being away for nine months, but nine years? None of it mattered though. All that mattered was that he was around the corner, riding his Hero Honda CD 100. I would see him and all would be forgotten. All that mattered was this −

“…he would be cruising on the rocky road, wearing his striped blue Crocodile t-shirt, black shorts, white kicks and bottle green shades. His face clean shaven and his hair well cropped. His Seiko would reflect the light of the sun making his wrist shine. His face would be straight but without a frown, calm and composed. His lips perfectly curved below his salt and pepper moustache. He would soon be in the driveway. He would soon be home.”

Five minutes passed and then ten. My feet started to burn against the tarred road, so I kept shifting from one foot to the other. Ten more minutes passed. Only now, I could hear the engine fading. The softer it got, the harder I tried to listen. Until I couldn’t hear it anymore. So I walked back to the door, suddenly, 20 years older. The wood on the door had aged and the carving had worn out.  Our white walls were covered in moss and the weeds had spread across the balcony. The door was locked and I had no key. Confused and hurting, I turned around, and there it was. His Hero Honda CD 100, still parked in the garage. Rusted and untouched.

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It was only just a dream.

Oh, I’m in pieces, it’s tearing me up, but I know
A heart that’s broke is a heart that’s been loved.

You were an angel in the shape of my dad
When I fell down you’d be there holding me up

And when God takes you back we’ll say Hallelujah
You’re home.

Today’s tune – Supermarket Flowers by Ed Sheeran.

Day 8 – 11 May 2017.
358 days to go.

Thanks for listening and if you relate, say hello, please and thank you.