A gentle reunion
We stayed there, talking for two hours. About our lives. About our shortcomings. About our silences. She’s an illustrator, she loves children’s books, has lived with another woman for eight years, and dreams of adopting.
“Do you want to get to know each other?” she asked me a little later, as we left the cafe.
I didn’t answer. I just took her in my arms.
A new life
It’s been a year now. We meet every Wednesday. She introduced me to her partner, Juliette. They took me to see an exhibition at the HAB Galerie. We had a picnic on the banks of the Erdre. And, three months ago, they asked me if I wanted to be the godmother of their future child.
I still live alone. But I’m not alone anymore.
There’s laughter now, calls, messages at all hours. There’s Clémence. My daughter.
An end that isn’t one
Life doesn’t always follow the plans we make. Sometimes it takes detours. Sometimes it offers a second chance.
And sometimes, behind a curtain, she whispers what we have long refused to hear.
Mom.
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