Not me

Why keep ruining someone’s else life?

There were only two choices that had divided my life for seven months now. Stay and keep struggling, not thinking in my own mature or the perspective that I have for life, or leaving and leave alone the people that I supposed to love enough.

In 1875, it’s impossible to think that a woman is no a mother or a housewife, and I didn’t feel it right. Above my own prejudices in life, I got married when I was 19 years old (pretty young, I know) to a man I came to love with the same passion with which I devoted myself to reading.

The prejudices I grew up with did not change until I get pregnant. And the supposed happiness that I had to feel was never there.

Scared? Of course. With tears in my eyes? Every night. Did I regret my decision? A little bit each time that I see my belly getting bigger.

It feels like all my dreams were disappearing as my husband was saying all the things that he will do for the little future strong girl.

Etan is a great man, I swear, he is all the things that my dad was and all the things my mom wanted for me. And he loves our child, who better than he could be a father?

And with that question in mind, while giving birth, I felt that I had finally freed myself from something, that is not my child (which I guessed right that was a girl). It was something that kept me bound and from which I no longer had another reason to follow.

Did I make the right decision? According to what my family believed; I committed an injury. Do I feel happy that I left people behind me? A big part of me does, the other still regrets not giving that little girl a mother to fight with every day. However, I knew I could make a big mistake if I didn't raise her right and sacrifice my whole life to give her what she deserved. Prejudices that I got tired of fighting for.

Only a week after I almost passed out after giving birth, with remorse welling up inside me, I grabbed some paper and started writing. My husband was still sleeping with a bit of drool on his chin and his body facing the direction of our daughter's crib.

The child was named Emma, as I had read in one of my favorite books, and Evan so graciously granted it. The little girl was precious, the most beautiful being I had ever seen and I thanked the heavens that she didn't look like me in the slightest.

There was no turning back once I picked up the paper and started writing. Only minutes after I placed the letter on the small kitchen table, the baby began to stir, and even though I had to leave I nursed her for a long time.

It would be the last she would have of me and then I would leave.

It was six o'clock in the morning when I left home, where I left a family that I could never be a part of because my own senses were not ready to have a being to take care of.

I took the train from the central station in front of a restaurant where my husband and I used to eat when I didn't want to cook.

My heartbeat was pounding in my ears, a few tears had stained my blouse as I gave the ticket and boarded the first train to leave. I had taken only ten dollars, more than enough to get out of Germany quietly, and a couple of changes of clothes. Everything else, jewelry, money saved, I left in the hands of a man I knew would make it and hoped that a broken heart would not hold him back for long.

And unbeknownst to me, as the train passed thirteen stations, my heart had broken at a corner.  

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

It had been ten years since I last saw my family and eight years since I left a tear-stained letter in a kitchen I barely remembered.

It was only three o'clock in the afternoon when the train stopped, the sun was in a good spot as I descended with heavy shoulders after a long journey. My boots touched the mud and I just kept walking, looking everywhere as I followed the paper that was in my hands and marked with directions to get to the place I wanted.

Just days after leaving the letter, I met a girl who was in such a familiar situation that I didn't leave her side for a while, and we both found a home in an asylum where we spent our evenings talking to the people who knew so much about life and I kept wanting to discover her.

I traveled at set times, where the nieces of some young adults would come and my friend and I could take some time for ourselves. Only three years ago I decided to go to my hometown, to the place I had left abandoned for so many years, and with the help of my friend, I managed not to be afraid as I searched for my family. However, none of them wanted to talk to me (which I understand, and even though it broke my heart and on the way home, I was not afraid of them). I met an old friend, with whom I worked for a short time before getting married, and by fate, he showed us the orphanage in which he worked.

Only now can I tell the great adventures that children so young showed me, and although my fear is still latent, the affection I have for those creatures is still alive today. My friend and I saw them in summer, in our spare months.

And thanks to them, I’m here for them.

“Telling them about my past was a mistake”

But still, I did not stop my step and I continued to walk the streets that only for three years I was familiar with.

As I looked at the paper in my hands, I heard shouts of children, dormant laughter, as much as in the orphanage, and I followed them out of inertia, curious to find something.

Looking at the park that was probably opened recently, I stopped to recognize a male figure a few meters from me. I went a little closer to corroborate what I thought and there they were.

An eight-year-old blonde girl laughed as her father held her and then let her go to play with the other children.

I saw it from my place and could see the silly smile I had often seen when I looked at my then bulging belly. He had not changed; he was still the same and that made me imitate his smile.

I just wanted to know how they were and although at some point in my life I wondered if I should return, I was not willing to vanish against the sea all their battles to place myself, and out of respect I turned around and my shoulders felt as light as a feather.

They are happy, I’m happy. I never wanted more than that for them.

Our decisions bring us today and from now on I will sleep well tonight.