For the Years to Come

It seemed as if Sara’s world was burning. It did not turn upside down, it did not crumble under her feet. That would be too quick, too merciful. Her world was burning. Every breath, every movement, every single glance at her husband caused pain like she never felt before. Tears filled her eyes so that her vision went blurry. It wasn’t even that she was sad, or angry, or anything else. She was not sure what it was. It escaped her, the same way the horrible gasp did when the doctor said ‘two months’.

Sara’s husband, Luke, began asking completely frantic if it was a joke. “What do you mean two months. She’s healthy! What the hell do you mean?” he began pacing around the room, running his hand through his hair. Oh, how Sara loved his brown locks. The time slowed down and there was nothing that really mattered. Nothing except getting back to Holly; she turned fifteen months that day.

The doctor talked more about how the next two months would look like, what to expect. Sara barely remembered his words after they left the clinic. She stared out the car’s window and let the sun warm her face. Luke had at least two panic attacks on their way back home. When they entered their beautiful house Sara did not stop for anyone, not her parents, not for Luke’s parents – she went straight to Holly and took her out to the backyard. She did not want to break down in front of anyone, she just wanted to hold her baby. They sat down on the grass, the toddler busy with exploring, and the mother overwhelmed with her own tiny miracle, that was currently drooling all over her front.

And then, like out of a dream, the little girl started climbing up to sit in her mom’s lap. She sort of leaned on the bigger body and stayed there, as tranquil as one of the surrounding trees. That’s when it happened. Sara let go of all the pain and once again, tears splashed on her cheeks. She hugged Holly, trying to send all the words she wanted to say through the simple act of holding her. It was unfair. All of it was simply unfair.

A few days later Sara agreed to her best friend’s attempt to make everything seem normal, and they both went to the nearby park. Alice’s son was four and one of the cutest little boys there was. He treated Holly as his sister and it made both mothers extremely warm inside.

“I can read her like no one else, you know. When she cries a certain way I know she needs changing. Other times I know she’s hungry. When she’s angry she gets red,” said Sara, her eyes absent. Her best friend stared at her, nodding. “but more like a cabbage, not a tomato, which is when she’s hurt. She can tell me how she feels… but me – I can’t tell her how much I love her, how much I want to see her grow up.”

 We don’t communicate in the same way and even though there are people who’ll tell her all about me, there are many things that words don’t translate well enough, thought Sara.

There are those slides on the playground made of plastic that gives you small electric shocks when you go down. Holly chose the green one and apparently did not mind the shocks because she went on it the seventh time in a row. The little toddler has been walking for a few months now, but still managed to trip over invisible obstacles sometimes or have trouble holding a balance on her plump little legs. How Sara loved her was indescribable. To be quite honest, Sara never knew that the word ‘love’ could be not enough. Because when you grow up you learn that ‘I love you’ is, in a sense, reserved to the most important people and matters; that it is the ultimate magic spell. When she tells Holly she loves her, even though the baby has no clue what it means, she finds it unsatisfactory. It’s like knowing there are billions of undiscovered planets in the universe, but you’re only able to talk about the ones in our Solar System. It sort of limits your emotions. It makes you feel stranded, wanting to swim ahead to the shore, to save yourself, but not finding any water underneath you. You are stuck in nothingness, still feeling and thinking, yet unable to move.

As weeks went by Sara spent the most time with her mother, maybe except Holly and Luke, of course. They talked about everything and if it wasn’t for her Sara’s spirits would have died down a long time ago. When she expressed her worries about not being able to be there for Holly, that the girl will never know her mom, her own mother offered a solution. At first, Sara was skeptical.

“Make a time capsule. Put everything you hold dear in there, and one day our baby girl will be able to get to know you.”

And so Sara ordered a wooden trunk in the size of a small suitcase and spent a whole day gathering objects, photos, and memories from around the house. She stayed alone with Holly, trying not to get too emotional every time she took a peek at her. After packing the trunk Sara decided to put it in the attic and hide the key in an envelope, so that when Holly would turn eighteen she could open it, fully aware of what it meant.

There were photos from when Sara was a baby herself, her favorite rock band’s T-shirt, tickets to concerts and sports games she went to with Luke. She also found some letters she got from a pen pal from Italy when she was a teenager. Plane tickets, small drawings from Art classes that she kept, a baseball she caught on her first baseball game – all those things slowly filled the trunk to the very top. But there was one last thing she needed to do before locking it. She sat down on the floor next to her daughter and wrote:

To my baby,

Words are not enough. I’ve never been good with words, anyway, but this seems to be the biggest challenge yet. I’m writing this so that when you’re ready you can get to know me. My favorite color is green, my favorite number is 5 and I absolutely hate ketchup. (Your dad never understood it) I am an early bird, but at the same time, I would give anything to watch the stars at night. I love the ocean, but I will never swim in a lake… Don’t ask why. I don’t know. I always sleep on the left side of the bed and kick during my sleep. (or so your dad tells me) I have never been to a circus, although I always wanted to. If you ever go I want you to tell me how it was, okay? When I’m angry I chew on pens and pace around. When I’m sad I go to sleep and when I’m happy apparently my eyes shine, not with tears, but there’s something that changes in them. I love drawing and painting but I never got to do anything with it. If your dad hasn’t taken them down yet (let him try) all the paintings on the walls are mine… you might already know that but I’ll write it down anyway. I love every second of being your mom and there is nothing I would rather do. I love you more than the words can describe. This capsule is for the years to come. It’s so that when you’re challenged, or when you find yourself lost - you can remember there is someone who is looking out for you.

I’m not scared of dying, but I’m scared that wherever I’m going I won’t be able to see you grow up and become whoever you are meant to become, to see what path in life you will choose for yourself. But don’t you worry, I’ll fight everyone there is to get to you. I’m watching over you and always will.

I love you,

Mom

The letter wasn’t perfect, it didn’t have everything Sara wanted to say in it, the envelope was a bit creased, but it was okay. She didn’t want to change a word. It was pure and honest and because it wasn’t perfect it was hers. From her to her daughter. The future will tell whether Holly will understand; if the time capsule will provide any real explanation, some reassurance that Sara did indeed love her with all her heart and soul. Maybe it will be enough.