I would say “I don’t think I’ll go to school today, mom” if it wasn’t that I have to go. But now it is work, not school. How nice when I was snug under the cover of my blankets and away off in the background you could hear breakfast being prepared. So warm and cosy and so different from the cold street, the drizzle, the cars splashing, the freezing schoolyard and such a long wait for the hot tea to be served. Staying at home was such perfect bliss.

            Today I am older, I have responsibilities, I am not so protected, and moreover I live abroad (what is abroad? Away from my country, from my things, from myself). I have fewer rules to follow, less protection, fewer protectors. It is not difficult to get into a routine and get up early, go to work, go through the usual motions, but it hurts so much.

            I long for the secure things of childhood, the absolutes, the absence of doubt. For a feeling of protection. For the time when protection was a blanket, school one of the lesser evils, and everything was more flexible. Nowadays I run off to put my shoulder to the wheel and I forget about my feelings. Because if I did not, I would do what I am doing now. Turning over, switching off the clock, snuggling into the blankets feeling nice and protected.

This story appears in Still…life, Mosaic Press, Canada. Copyright David Mibashan.