God is like that mother…

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God,
is like that mother
whose five years old son, one fine day, announced he was grown-up enough to not need her to accompany him at pre-school anymore, so, starting the next day, he would go there all by himself.

And she said – Fine -, with one half of her heart pumping blood with motherly pride for the bright future he would certainly conquer, one day, and the other half bleeding for the reason of her life seemed to push her away, like ashes forgotten.

So, the day after, she handed him his books and his meal, she said – have a good day – to him, holding back her will to kiss his forehead like any other day, and just closing the door behind him, while he was looking back at her, a bit incredulous for he felt lost in that all new situation.

But he just felt he had to prove his statement, he couldn’t retire and make a fool of himself, so he started walking to the kindergarten.

As you can guess, his mom soon sneaked out of the door, and managed to follow him at some distance, like an electron its nucleus, sometimes staying behind him, sometimes going ahead, to make sure everything on his way was safe for him.

And she moaned and cringed in pain, any time he looked around, or down to his shoes, not sure about what to do, and how to do it, and where to go, any time he seemed to stretch out his hand, looking for hers without finding it… and countless times she felt like reaching him, and hugging him, hoping to find his smile of relief in seeing her at his side… but she never did it, for she didn’t want him to feel like defeated in his brave proposition.

And she bit her lower lip to almost blood, a couple times, and shed copious tears which could have rendered a desert fertile, when he tripped and fell at the dusty side of road.

And she thanked God for how a kind woman, passing by, asked to her boy whether he was fine, and offered him to help him to stand up again.

And she felt her heart stop, as if on the slippery border of a devouring black hole, when he stated, – no, thank you, I can do it myself… only mom can help me. –
And her heart was cut in half by a blade, again, when the woman asked where his mom was and he replied that – I don’t need her, to go to school. I’m grown up enough, – with that low tone which sounded too much like that of an adult too full of pride.

The second time he tripped, she went back a little and asked to a woman approaching to go to help him, imploring her not to tell him it was by her request.

Eventually, he reached the kindergarten, a bit ruffled, very tried, but safe.
And she cried again, for, no matter how unrealistic and illogical it felt, he really seemed to not need her anymore.
And she smiled and giggled, at once, so proud of him, for he had been so brave!

But he had talked about going, all by himself.
Not about going back home.
And by the time of returning, a thick darkness would have already veiled the world.
That’s why, hoping not to hurt him… hoping not to be hurt, on a side thought… she dared to reach the kindergarten, when he should have left.

Walking home, she asked him how it went.
– All fine, – he said.
– But I missed you, – he added.

God is like that mother.
And we are like that boy, I think.

(c) Daniele Bergamini