There are moments in life you wish you could freeze in time or press like wild flowers between the pages of your life. Tonight was one such moment. Spontaneous, beautiful and impossible to recapture. A crazy, before bedtime game with my son that involved us running through the apartment flinging sock bombs at each other, giggling and squealing while the Les Misérables Complete Symphonic Recording played in the background. It ended with us both collapsing on the sofa, utterly out of breath, and he gave me a hug and wheezed, ‘I love you.’
There have been times, especially when he was younger, when being a single mother seemed almost impossibly difficult. But I wouldn’t change it for anything, because I don’t think we’d ever have had the amazing relationship we do if we hadn’t been on our own. Sometimes I wonder if that’s part of the reason I have stayed single. Not just because I don’t want a new family with step kids or more kids, but because I could not sacrifice our relationship for anything. It’s worth so much more to me than any fleeting romance.
I know tonight will be one of those nights we’ll look back on in a few weeks and laugh at. We’ll say, ‘Remember the sock battle? Want to do it again?’ and maybe we’ll charge through the rooms again. Little memories like that are the one we look back on. Amidst the occasional drudgery of our daily lives are the sparkling diamonds hidden in the debris.
Remember Dynasty? Not the new one on Netflix, but the original one from the 80s with John Forsythe and Joan Collins. I’m watching that on TV at the moment, I catch an episode every day after work. It’s a little dated and occasionally incredibly offensive, but when I watch it, I look back to a time when it was shown on Danish television every Sunday afternoon. I must have been about eleven or so. Once it was over, my grandmother and I would spend fifteen minutes on the phone hashing out all their scandalous behaviour. That call was the best part, and the last minutes before I could pick up the phone seemed to drag by like hours. Now, every afternoon, I still want to call her. When I do something we used to enjoy together, it’s almost like she’s still here, just for a brief moment.