Transitions. It happens for various reasons, life choices, acquired rights of others, rights that you deny yourself. Swallow anger, and convert it into opportunity. For some time I live in a small room of a bed and breakfast, where I have to stay for a few months, and my son for 12 days a month. And those 12 days I want them to be wonderful for him. And you invent the stories, “our house is broken, they are repairing it”, “we will make another house my love, with your room”.
The garden below with the cat, the magic of eating on the balcony, the grown-up bed that he can use too. A closet for him, balloons, breakfast and dinners cooked in the microwave. The freeze-dried coffee that becomes the best in the world, the clothes washed in the bidet that taste good. And Nico, with eyes that thank you as they say “Dad, it’s nice to be at the campsite!”. Because a child’s heart doesn’t care, it’s happy where happiness is.
Unhappiness is something else, despair does not live with us. I am lucky enough to be able to afford it, but I think of all those who are in the same condition if not worse, and a light at the end of the tunnel does not see it. The project is dedicated to them, to those who are sick but want to see their child smile.
