Don't Go Back

Don’t Go Back

Trevor was up early that day, just like he was every other morning. He threw on his hi-vis shirt and long, blue work pants. You know the type, with the yellow reflective strips around the bottom. His steel-capped boots were stained with the undeniable evidence of years of hard work. The logo on his shirt read … “Thomas Constructions.” After brushing his teeth, he crept silently into the kid’s rooms and planted a loving kiss on each of their foreheads as they slept.

I waited in the kitchen wearing my dressing gown and slippers, my un-brushed hair was a tangled mess. In my left hand I held out his coffee. In my right, his lunch box. Trevor pulled me close to him, threw his arms around me and squeezed me tight as our lips met. “I love you, Hannah, I’ll see you when I get home.” “I love you too, I’ll be waiting,” I said.

I loved being a stay-at-home mum. Thankfully, I didn’t need to go out to work, we had more than enough money with just Trevor’s wage. Life wasn’t extravagant, but we were very comfortable and wanted for nothing. Trevor was a real family man. He would spend every spare minute with the kids and I. “Making memories,” that’s what he called it. Quality time, which could never be regained once it had passed. Our little family was happy and carefree. At least that’s how it was until Trevor didn’t come home from work that day. The date was January 12, 2014. The day the world, as I knew it, fell apart.

But that was five years, three months and four days ago. So obviously I’m all good now, right? Not exactly. After the so-called grieving period was over, I was expected to function “normally” once again. The bank accounts had all but dried up. Trevor’s funeral had taken a large chunk out of our savings. I had to find a job to keep up with the rent and other bills.

After every workday, I had to pick up tired, grumpy, hungry kids. I struggled to keep on top of all the general housework too. With very little sleep, it was a battle I was losing. “How is any working mother expected to get all this done?” I asked myself. Most nights I resorted to wine, just to help me fall asleep. Those were the times when I really missed Trevor.

One of those nights, with help from some cheap Merlot, I began to drift off into my wine-induced coma. “Trevor, how am I going to keep going?” I mumbled to myself.

After I had tossed and turned for hours, the alarm clock rudely interrupted my sleep as it announced another workday. I groaned as I reached over and slammed my hand down on the OFF button.

Daylight had pushed most of the darkness away and the sun hovered on the horizon. I reluctantly peeled back the covers and slid out to greet the day. My pillow had somehow made its way onto the floor during the night. Max, our poodle, had taken advantage of the opportunity, snuggled deeply into the softness. He looked up at me and I knew he wasn’t giving up that comfy spot any time soon.

The sheets were bunched up in a pile at the foot of the bed and my hair looked like it was fast becoming dreadlocks. Still half asleep, I made my way slowly to the bathroom. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. I turned to face it, for a better look. “Oh my goodness, who IS that?” I asked myself. Dark grey smudges under my eyes were the tell-tale evidence of way too little sleep. I had my pyjamas on back to front AND inside out. The rhythmic, pounding in my head was unbearable, made worse by the blinding rays of morning sunlight now streaming in through the half-open blinds. I squinted my eyes in an attempt to dull the brightness.

One look at the kitchen benchtop made me feel instantly ill. I carefully pushed aside the empty wine bottles and unwashed dishes. My breakfast that morning consisted of two headache pills. Washed down by strong, black coffee, in a mug that had “Best Mum Ever” printed on the side. Trevor had given it to me when Jacob was born, just over eight years ago.

When the throbbing of the migraine finally began to ease, I went in to wake the kids. Mia was just like any other six-year-old. She never wanted to get out of bed, but once she was up and her renewed energy kicked in, she was full-on. Jacob, on the other hand, was always keen to get the day underway. He bounced out of bed and skipped into the bathroom. “If only I had that energy,” I thought.

They were growing up way too fast. It seemed like only a couple of years ago that Trevor and I had been out shopping for baby items.

Our morning ritual was well rehearsed. Wake, dress, coffee, school drop-off, work. Mia was a major source of stress for me each morning. She could never make up her mind how I should do her hair. Jacob, in comparison, was fairly laid back. I always tried to have their lunches packed the night before, to save myself time.

The kids even received their breakfast at school, such a valuable godsend for working mothers. Our mornings had continued, unchanged, like this for over five years.

When Trevor was here, I used to be a happy, fun-loving person, now I just went through the motions. I was just an empty, unfeeling shell of who I once was. Instead of enjoying my kids growing up, my life was now filled with traffic jams, work meetings, school pick-ups, after school activities, takeaway meals and re-filling the washing machine and dishwasher. I even had a robot vacuum cleaner that would go about its business while we slept. Who had time to vacuum the floors these days?

The busier life became, the more reliant we were on modern technology. We needed it, just to get by. I bought myself a new, all-in-one, washing machine and dryer. All I had to do was pop in the dirty laundry in the morning and press a button. When I arrived home in the evening the clothes were washed and dry, ready to be worn again. A future upgrade that would also fold the clean clothes would have been very welcome.

The fridge would tell me what items I needed from the shop. Then it would order them online and have them home delivered for me, all without me lifting a finger. I never had time to read to the kids, or play a game, so Jacob and Mia sought company in their iPads.

Each day morphed into the next, an endless cycle of sameness. It frequently occurred to me that we needed to have more and more technology and automation, due to a shortage of free time. On the other hand, we needed to work longer and longer hours to afford this technology. Was it just me, or did that sound ridiculous? I just couldn’t seem to come up with an alternative.

Then it happened. After a full bottle of red, I had just dozed off when one of the kids turned on my bedroom light. I was about to tell them to go back to bed when I realised the light was not on at all. It was the sky outside that was lit up as bright as day. “What the heck?” I mumbled, only half awake. I peered out the window, now curious. There was an intense, white light, high up in the sky. I tried to make sense of what I saw, but I had never seen anything similar to compare it to. A massive glowing ball. It almost looked like a full moon, only bigger and brighter. I watched as it slowly descended towards the horizon. The glow faded out until the darkness of night once again took its rightful place. My mouth was still gaping open at the sight. “This is for you, Hannah,” said Trevor.

The bright sunlight streaming in my window woke me up the next day. I was processing the dream I had the night before when I realised that it shouldn’t be this light yet. “The alarm clock must be broken,” I thought to myself. Mia came running in, “Mum, the tv won’t work,” she protested. I flicked on the jug as I passed through the kitchen. Hmmm. No power there either. The whole house had no electricity.

I went next door to ask Mr. Jones if his power was still on. He answered the door wearing nothing but a towel. His muscular, tanned physique was still dripping from the shower. As he tousled his hair, I tried to avert my gaze from his bulging biceps. “Nope, I think it has something to do with the meteor crashing down last night. The whole city’s out as far as I know,” he said. “Meteor? I thought it was a dream.” I said. “Oh, it was real all right. I watched it come down,” said Mr. Jones.

So, if the meteor hadn’t been a dream, what about Trevor’s voice? I wandered back home in a daze. “Can we stay home today, Mum?” pleaded Jacob. “I guess we’ll have to, at least until the power’s back on,” I said. “It shouldn’t take long.”

As I would soon find out, I had definitely misjudged the situation very badly. The kids were happy to not be going to school, at least until their phones and iPads went flat. “We’re bored, Mum,” they chimed in unison. “Go out and see if any other kids want to play,” I said to them both. As they ran out the front door, I stood there wondering how I was going to get the piles of dirty laundry done. 

Two days later, the power is still off. All the food in the fridge and freezer began to smell funny. The unwashed laundry was still in the machine, waiting. All the shops were closed, luckily my pantry was well stocked with food. The neighbourhood kids were happily playing together outside for the first time in years. The robot vacuum was still sitting in the middle of the loungeroom floor, where it went flat. “Hannah, I know you can do this,” Trevor’s voice seemed to be coming from inside my head.

Two months on, the power is still off. Finally the smell was subsiding in the kitchen. The offending white goods and their rancid contents had been moved outside weeks ago. I finally resorted to hand-washing the clothes and pegging them outside to dry. This brought back memories of helping my mother peg out the clothes when I was a child. It had been a great bonding time for us. We would talk about everything as we pegged.

All the shops and other businesses were still locked shut. When cars ran out of fuel they were simply abandoned where they stopped. The local kids invented new games to occupy their time. They didn’t even seem to miss their devices anymore. Bicycles were now the favoured mode of transport. I’ve never seen so many bikes. It seemed as if everyone had at least one bike in their garage that had been forgotten for years, until now.

Two years on, the power is still off. You’ve all seen those sci-fi disaster movies, so I won’t bore you with the details of our day-to-day activities. But I will say, we have all discovered the true meaning of mateship and cooperation. Neighbours helping neighbours. People communicating with people. Realising that there is much more to life than simply work and money. It seems those with the least, are the most likely to share and are often the happiest. “Hannah, I’m so proud of you.” By now I was getting used to hearing Trevor’s voice. It soothed me and made me feel like I wasn’t alone.

I was now enjoying a wonderful and contented life with my children, I had fun with them, and I learned new things with them. I finally knew what was really important. To simply just enjoy life. None of us know what will happen in the future. We should live each day as if it is our last.

But I still really do miss my automatic washing machine/dryer.

Six years later, totally without warning, the power came back on. “Hannah, don’t go back.” Trevor warned.