Breathe

I was already a few miles from the airport before the weight of what I was doing landed on me. The quiet hum of the cab engine competed with the thoughts in my head. I leaned my head to the window with my eyes focused on the bald head of my cab driver, yet lost in my surroundings.

The cab driver reached for the radio. I didn’t stop him. I saw his old eyes stare at me from the rearview mirror for approval. I nodded. I needed something to drown the noise that had built a shelter in my head. My left hands were clenched around my bag, and the leather straps had started to warm beneath my palms. And in my right hand was a tiny passport photograph of my late husband. Life hasn't been easy without him.

The song came on and I let my fingers leap up and down to the beats. Then, I looked out the window, the morning sun lay itself gently across the roofs of my city like a soft blanket. Yet the only thing that felt alive in the city that morning was my zeal to get to Ghana.

The driver glanced at me in the mirror again. “Madam, airport, abi?”

I nodded again. This time slowly.

He shifted the gear and hit the road this time.

I sighed as I found myself going over this morning in my head. Like I was present in my kitchen standing there with an apron tied to my waist. I'd ensured my children's uniforms were all ironed and placed in their rooms. Even though my hands ached by the third pair of clothes.

Then I dragged my feet to the kitchen, where I made breakfast of bread and fried eggs, and a flask of steaming hot cocoa. Then I tucked their lunch money inside the small brown envelopes labeled with their names on the back.

I stood by the door as they filed through with arms stretched out for a hug. Kamsi didn’t care to hug me. He was too busy complaining about how his elder, Adaeze, took too long in the bathroom. Adaeze was on the phone all through preparations for school. She barely even touched her food. Tobe, my youngest, was the only one who cared to smile and wave through the window at his exhausted mum as the bus moved. Knowing my next move, his smile almost broke me.

As soon as their bus turned the corner, I walked back inside and packed. A few two dresses, slippers, my journal, and a book I’d started reading last Christmas and never finished. I zipped the bag slowly, as if the sound might wake the guilt I was trying to put to sleep.

Then I called Ifeoma, my younger sister.

“What? What will I tell your kids when they ask me, 'Where did you go? '" She screamed, mimicking a child's voice at the last word.

“Please Ify, just three days,” I repeated.

Silence. I pictured Ifeoma pacing her room.

“Do you really have to do this?”

“I have to,” I said. “I need a few days to get my mind in order. I'm nearly going crazy with their teenage exuberance, plus work. I never imagined it would be this way. I mean, I can handle it if it were Tobe alone, but my teenagers are becoming something else."

There was silence again for a few seconds. Then she sighed into the phone, long and hard. “Fine, I’ll be there in an hour.”

"You might not meet me here by then. I need to catch the next flight to Ghana." I said, trying not to sound mean.

“Whatever!”

I quickly booked a ride to the airport, dragged my bags to the door. Just before I left, I wrote a short note and placed it on the fridge:

***“Be good. Listen to Aunty. I’ll be back soon. — Mum.***

The cab jerked to a quiet stop bringing me back to life. The driver looked back at me. I forced a smile and folded a few naira notes into his hands. "Keep the change."

I pushed the door open and stepped into the soft heat of the morning.

Honestly, I had no idea what to expect in Ghana as I boarded the plane. Maybe a few days of the peace I sought. Maybe the ability to hear my own thoughts again. Or maybe just sleep without being woken by dreams of laundry, missing socks, teenage squabbles, and the weight of unpaid bills.

I got to the resort. A small but beautiful place. With the sea and white curtains on doors dancing with the wind. Then a big bed wide enough to accommodate my baggage.

I freshened up and lay down trying to bury my thoughts. But no matter how hard I tried. My mind kept seeing Kamsi arguing with Adaeze over nothing. Adaeze’s eye-rolls. Tobe was tugging at my feet and asking if lions could talk. I smiled a little at that one.

I guess to be a mother comes with a no day off offer.

It was hard trying to focus on only myself as each day and night I pondered on how my kids were coping. If Kamsi had taken his drugs, or Adaeze sneaked off to the late-night parties, or Tobe was still playing video games.

It was a tale of a mother who went to find the version of herself that didn't have to shout and worry all the time. But yet met a woman who was the true definition of a mother. Always thinking about her kids.

I texted Ifeoma severally each day and every time I got the same reply.

“They’re still alive. Just focus on you.”

By the third day, I was running down the airport. I couldn't wait to catch my flight and see my kids again. Maybe it will be easier to die of their shenanigans than die because I missed them.

I got home at the exact time the sun was leaving our roofs. Tobe ran first. He held me like I’d been gone a year. Adaeze stood a little further back, arms folded, but her eyes were wet. Kamsi dropped the TV remote and grabbed my bags.

“Where did you go, Mum?” Adaeze asked, her voice was a little high-pitched.

I pulled them close in a warm embrace.

“I thought I could have a few days off to breathe without you guys.”

Tobe blinked, pulling off my grip. “But you breathe here.”

“You really won't understand,” I said softly rubbing his cheeks slightly.

Kamsi looked at me now like his father does. It was at that moment that I realized how much he looked like his father.

“Are you really okay, Mum?”

I raised my face to hold back the tears welling up in my eyes. Then I nodded. “Maybe I wasn't. But now, here, I'm perfect.”

Adaeze stepped closer, her voice quieter. “We're sorry.”

I smiled. "No baby, there's no need to be. I might have left to catch my breath. But you're the reason I never stayed too long."

As I held them again in my arms. I realized that I never needed to go away to heal. All I needed was the love waiting for me at the door each day after work.

[Source](https://pixabay.com/photos/pen-notebook-magazine-home-office-5112319/)