About summer, Utopia and a bunny. Oh, and mothers, too.

I dunno how Utopia is supposed to look like.

The sun is bright, I can’t see much. I close my eyes. It’s all fade colors and white light around me. Summer is coming.

The slow wind warms up my face. I smile. Birds and butterflies dance around me. I know because I see their shadows on my eyelids. I sit in the little garden behind the square cafe. The silent cafe cat shows up, slides around my legs. Stops. I feel her looking up at me, expecting. My eyes are still closed and I feel lazy. Probably lazier than a lazy cat.

I perceive a voice from afar. This is Babylove. I could recognize his loud little voice even a 1,000 km away. I almost never exaggerate. I swear.

He’s playing with the other kids in the fight-pit. Fighting with the other kids in the playground. Screaming, crying. Silence. Someone’s dead. Laughs. Okay. Resuscitated. I don’t want to go there. The other mothers will again attack me with avid questions which are no questions after all.

“How is he doing? It must be hard? All this moving? It’s not so good for a child this age? How do you feel? Oh you will work almost right away? Shouldn’t you take the time to accommodate? Are you sure he’s okay? He will miss Germany, won’t he? It’s so safe and green here, but of course you’ve thought of all of this already? Do you have a kindergarten? How many are on your list? Will he go to an international one? He might turn into a posh hahaha! Yes no? The local ones are very strict, aren’t they? Ah you want to try anyway? Good for you, good for you, but… with his temper?.. Ahaha, children adapt way faster than we do. Are you sure? Do you have a flat? Isn’t way smaller there? More people indeed… Polluted? And the food? And the culture? And, and, and…”

I am a bit scared of other mothers. And I don’t have the answer. Or the right answer. “I will see” is not a German answer. But I’m French, hence. I like some mothers, they’ve traveled and have no answer either. They’re unsure and try. If it does not work, they try something else. I like some mothers who did not travel much, but aren’t asking questions which are no questions. Only questions of curiosity.

A small warm hand touches my arm. A bit greasy too. “Maman, I want water.” I don’t open my eyes yet, I ask him for the magical word. “Abracadabra” he says. This child is way too much like me. I don’t like it at all. Sometimes. I inner laugh. Okay.

I open my eyes and the sun is bright, I can’t see much. It’s all fade colors and white light before me. And washed green metal. And a weird bunny. Everything becomes yellow.

Utopia.

I reach for the glass of sparkling water with the pink straw. Babylove puts his greasy sandy hands around mine, pushes on his toes, and starts drinking. With my other hand, I caress his soft golden curls. He’s not a bunny, he’s a cheetah.

By the way, you should watch this video. The whole mini-series even. And let me know what you think. Maybe.

Wednesday-ly (see, it’s here) yours,
Jess

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