Mother's Day this year, as last year, and the year before that, was spent without much fanfare or even recognition.
But, today, I received a letter from my 9-year-old son, sent from Greece, where he lives with his father. Inside the envelope was a hand-made Mother's Day card, no doubt created in school at the table where Alex sits with three other students.
I wonder what went on in his head as he made that card, so diligently copying down the text from the whiteboard, so carefully coloring the illustration? Was he thinking of giving the card to his Oma, my ex-mother-in-law, whom, in my presence, my son had often referred to as "mother"? Was he perhaps sad that he couldn't give this card to his real mother, because he had been brainwashed into believing he didn't want to have anything to do with me? Did he, for one single moment, wish he could celebrate Mother's Day like the rest of his classmates? Or even just to go home at the end of the day, knowing Mommy was there waiting for him with a smile on her face and a bear hug in her arms, meant for him and no one else?
Does he miss me? Does he love me? Why is his father suddenly encouraging (seemingly) Alex's contact with me and his grandparents?
I don't know. But today, I received a letter from my son, and inside the envelope was a hand-made Mother's Day card. When I opened it, so many questions formed in my mind.
Not the least of which was, "What does this say?"
It was written in Greek.
But, today, I received a letter from my 9-year-old son, sent from Greece, where he lives with his father. Inside the envelope was a hand-made Mother's Day card, no doubt created in school at the table where Alex sits with three other students.
I wonder what went on in his head as he made that card, so diligently copying down the text from the whiteboard, so carefully coloring the illustration? Was he thinking of giving the card to his Oma, my ex-mother-in-law, whom, in my presence, my son had often referred to as "mother"? Was he perhaps sad that he couldn't give this card to his real mother, because he had been brainwashed into believing he didn't want to have anything to do with me? Did he, for one single moment, wish he could celebrate Mother's Day like the rest of his classmates? Or even just to go home at the end of the day, knowing Mommy was there waiting for him with a smile on her face and a bear hug in her arms, meant for him and no one else?
Does he miss me? Does he love me? Why is his father suddenly encouraging (seemingly) Alex's contact with me and his grandparents?
I don't know. But today, I received a letter from my son, and inside the envelope was a hand-made Mother's Day card. When I opened it, so many questions formed in my mind.
Not the least of which was, "What does this say?"
It was written in Greek.
