Page 5 of Back to Willow

“Okaaaayy.” He rolls his eyes while dragging the word with a snarky tone.

“Good. Now, go get dressed. Do you need help?”

“No, Mum. I’m a big boy!”

“Okay. I’ll be downstairs making breakfast. Call me if you need help.”

Ten minutes after, when I am almost done with breakfast, Dylan shows up in the kitchen, jumping around ecstatically—the complete opposite of the boy whining because he was sleepy just before. This kid is a ball of energy; I can only imagine how it is going to be when he grows up.

“Mummy, do I look good or what?” He poses in front of me with both hands on his hips, head cocked to the side, and a cocky expression on his face.

This boy couldn’t be more likehim,even if I wanted him to be, and it tugs my heart. A ton of memories that are buried in the back of my mind threaten to be released and dampen my mood. That is until I notice how his T-shirt is inside out, and his little jeans are unbuttoned.

I can’t control the loud cackle that comes out of me, making Dylan frown at my reaction before looking at himself.

“Come here, you silly.” I beckon him, then take the T-shirt off and put it back correctly, and then button his jeans up.

“Thanks, Mummy,” he chirps and runs off to his seat at the table.

We eat breakfast, and I help him so he doesn’t get stains on his clothing before taking him to school.

Abby is already waiting for him by the gate, and as soon as we exit the car, she‘s waving excitedly. Dylan grins at her and prepares to run but hesitates and looks up at me for permission.

I extend my hand, hinting for him to hold it. There’s a road we have to cross, and I won’t risk it, even though it’s right in front of the school and drivers are usually careful, but you never know.

The walk to the gate is quick but not quick enough for my son, it seems. With each step that isn’t as fast as he’s expecting, he tugs on my hand, trying to speed me up. I chuckle silently at his antics, and when we finally reach Abby and her mother, Dylan lets go of my hand and gives the girl a huge, tight hug.

My heart melts when it reminds me of easier times. Times when I, too, had a best friend like Dylan who would hug me and stand by me for everything. The fact that I no longer have that hurts, making me aware of how great the void in my heart is. A void that even the love of my son can’t fill. But whatever happened, it gave me what I have today, and I wouldn’t change having my son for anything in this world.

“Good morning,” I greet Abby’s mum, forcing myself out of my thoughts. She replies kindly with another good morning, and we fall into an easy conversation about how the weekend was and how excited the kids are for school.

One of the teachers comes outside, letting me know it’s time for them to go in, and I crouch to Dylan’s level for my hug. He comes without hesitation, hugging me tightly.

“Remember to be kind, okay? Voice what you’re feeling. I will be back later to pick you up.” I kiss him on the cheek, and he nods at me before turning back to Abby.

He picks her hand up, tangling their fingers together, and they go inside as the teacher accompanies the big group of kids.

Never glancing away from his small stature, I force myself to take a deep calming breath with my fingers twisting continuously and my brain repeating to my heart that it’ll be alright. That he’ll be back home at the end of the afternoon.

You would think separation anxiety would improve as the years went by.It doesn’t.When he was little, he was the only comfort for my loneliness, and when the time came that I had to start to work to help Nana and put him in school, I really struggled.

I used to bawl my eyes out every time I left him at daycare and spent the days on edge, waiting for a call saying something bad had happened or that his father’s family had found out about him and taken him. It never happened, and slowly, I got used to the brief time we had to spend apart.

“It’ll get easier,” Abby’s mum, Nina, says to me.

“You think?” I chuckle nervously.

“Just try and enjoy the hours he is away. Focus on yourself.” She nods alongside her words. “We often forget to take care of ourselves when kids come into our lives. We matter, too.”

Don’t I know it?

“I get you,” I start slowly, still unsure if I should disclose what my life is at the moment. “But I’m not sure I’ll have a moment to myself with both work and college mixed in the middle.”

Nina’s eyes widen for a second before she clears her throat. “That sounds like a lot.”

I already feel the pressure of it, and I haven’t even started properly. I can only hope that with Nana’s help—which she has made clear she is one hundred percent free for—I’ll be able to manage.

Though it worries me because, at her age, she should be relaxing and enjoying life, and yet, here she is, helping me get my life straight.

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