A Fictionish Story

This is a fiction story based around real events- there was a holiday, there was a hippy campervan, there was a slightly harrassed but loving mother… the rest is elaborated, exaggerated and/or downright fabricated!

I reckon I have worn a trench between the campervan and the ablution block today. Back, forth, back, forth….back, forth. Three kids with different toileting body clocks certainly has ensured I don’t get a very restful holiday break, that’s for sure. This time, however it is a laundry trip. Who knew that I would have to do washing whilst on holiday?

As I load the big, boxy caravan park washing machine with our clothes I pause to reflect on how this break is not really what I had anticipated. Isn’t getting away supposed to be relaxing, cleansing, good for the soul? Instead it really is business as usual- cooking for the family on a stovetop a quarter of the size I am used to, referee-ing various spats and squabbles, bathing, toileting and otherwise attending to my family’s needs.

But it is for the kids. These are their memories, the defining moments of childhood that will now be carried into three very different futures. I remember with great fondness days such as these with my parents, when I was a child, and they are my favourite memories, especially now my mum is gone. It never occurred to me the work involved in delivering these cherished memories.

Sighing, I wipe my brow and attempt to smooth the lines beginning to etch their way into my forehead. I prepare to walk my trench trail again, back to the campervan, the squabbles, the family holiday. I feel the weight of motherhood on my shoulders, wonder why the tug of love at my heart means I have to give away so much of myself. So much.

My trench trail leads me once again past a quirky little campervan that has caught my eye each time I have trudged by. It is painted with bright, hippy designs, and I am intrigued by the couple who seem to be living inside. They appear to be in their mid thirties, and they appear so…free. Although I look down at my feet each time I walk by, I have noticed that the woman is comfortable in her skin. Her hair is loose, she wears no bra, no shoes- she oozes femininity. Sometimes she dances, rather badly, to a song playing on the radio, and I admire her ability to really live, be in her skin, in the moment.

This time she and her partner are playing Trivial Pursuit by the campfire. They are laughing raucously and I remember a time where I used to laugh like that. What happened, where have those raucous belly laughs gone? It’s is like they have dissolved somewhere. As I approach their camp they appear to finish their game, and they settle by the fire, beers in hand, when they catch my eye just as I quickly look away.

“HEY!”

I pause, surprised when I realise the woman is calling out to me. Slowly I turn, thinking I must have dropped something, but remember I left my washing basket back at the laundry, wasn’t actually carrying
anything.

“Wanna beer?”

I open my mouth to explain that I can’t, I don’t drink thank you, that I really am in a hurry, I am a mother, you know…. but found myself walking toward their campfire, sitting down and accepting the cold bottle. I realised I was sitting stiffly, bolt upright, and I had to force myself to sink into the chair, emulating the relaxed style of the woman next to me.

I took a swig of the beer, a vile bitter taste that I have never liked and stared into the flames, in silent contemplation of what it is like to just BE. No-one asked my name, nor did I offer. I kicked off my shoes and scrunched my toes into the grass and drank my beer, reflecting on how unlike me it is to be this spontaneous. How irresponsible! But for that moment I allowed myself not to care. A brief moment in time for me. That is all, nothing more, nothing less.

In that moment I actually noticed the rugged beauty of our coastal surroundings, heard the laughter of my kids in the distance as they kick a ball with the kids they just met at the campsite near ours, saw my beloved husband watching on, laughing as they play and tustle. Future memories happening right now, as I sit still and watch.

I had thought I was selfish in wanting a moment to myself this holiday in order to find joy, but joy was always there…I just hadn’t sat still long enough to notice. I almost want to laugh at the simplicity of it all. I catch the eye of the woman by the campfire, and smile in gratitude for inviting me to just sit. Something so simple, yet so pivotal. I am not sure she understands, but it doesn’t matter. For once I don’t feel that I need to explain.

I finished my beer, savouring the bitter tang and stood up to go, hugging that moment to my chest like a cherished secret, a reminder that there exists a facet in time that is mine and mine alone. Resuming my walk along my trench trail, I return to the nurturing folds of my family feeling refreshed and more importantly loved, not only by them but also by me.