Late

So I’m not sure when I started to realize my parents had their own lives outside of me.  I think it was much later, after I had my own kids.  I realized my kids thought I was only there for them when actually I had my own life and intended to keep it that way.  When I applied this to my parents a lot of things about my childhood made more sense.  

I remember one time after our swimming lessons my mom was suppose to pick is up but she wasn’t there.  After waiting for a while my sister called my dad to come pick is up.  My mom arrived shortly after and go mad at us for calling our dad.  I remember being mad at mom for not being where she was suppose to be.  She was suppose to pick is up and she didn’t.  She was suppose to be there, and she wasn’t.  We were right to call our dad, why was she mad?  We were the ones who had the right to be mad, not her.  

When my daughter was eight years old I dropped her off at her theater class and went to cancel my metro pass.  I walked because taking the metro meant I had to use my pass and I couldn’t do that because I was canceling it.  I had calculated that I had time but then I forgot I was in France and things take forever.  I remember the moment when I realized that I might be late for pick up.  It was when I was standing in line.  As I considered abandoning, it was my turn.  

I was hopeful. I could make it! 

I didn’t.  They lady had computer problems, my account was weird, whatever.  Long story short I was late, about 10 minutes to pick up my daughter.  When I got there she wasn’t in the waiting area so I knocked on the door of the class.  

“You’re late” the teacher said when she opened the door with my daughter waiting in the sidelines of the class.   

“Sorry, problems with the metro” I replied meekly. Everyone stared as my daughter walked towards me.  She was mad.

So was I.  I wanted a break.  I was never late.  Just this one time.  And it was only ten minutes. 

I remembered my mom in this moment.  How she was late and nobody was cutting her any breaks.  I wish we had. 

I also remembered my little mad self.  My daughter was equally mad.  I understood.

From then on before class she would say “Promise you’ll be here five minutes before the end of class.  Promise!”.  

I did, and I was.