Talisman.

These days I am rarely alone.  I'm a social person but I sometimes long to be alone in the house.  I get resentful about it but I'm not good at asking for time out. I just huff and sigh a lot and roll my eyes and get short with the kids. And wonder why nobody reads my mind. And when I say nobody, I mean my husband.

At high school I got the "Most Sarcastic" prize at the end of Year 12, but I think if I were to get one these days it would be "Most Passive Aggressive".

I've had a long week of being sick and looking after a sick baby. I've virtually lost my voice. So without prompting M offered to take the kids out to his parents place in Brisbane for the afternoon to give me a few hours alone.

I tried not to clap my hands together with glee when he suggested it. I rushed madly around packing a bag of their things, folding nappies, filling drink bottles, and hurried them into the car.

As he reversed out of the driveway, he stopped and wound down the window, and they all waved as he drove off.

I watched the car disappearing down the street and, suddenly thought,

There goes my whole life. There goes everything I have, contained in that car, in those three people.
If something happened to them it would be the end of my life too.

I wanted to run after them shouting  "Don't go! Something will happen! Don't leave me! Something isn't right".

But I didn't, because that would be a sign of madness.

Instead I came inside and put their toys away, stripped their beds and put fresh sheets on. I arranged the soft toys on P's bed. I put her pyjamas under her pillow.

As if to ward off the anxious thoughts, like evil spirits, I lit a scented candle, and watched some videos of P as a baby. I put some cheerful music on and lurked around the kitchen to dig out some biscuits and cheese to eat, and then sat down to write.

When I was a child and haunted by recurring nightmares, my mother would make the sign of the cross on my forehead before bed, murmuring,

No bad dreams, no bad dreams, no bad dreams, no bad dreams, no bad dreams, no bad dreams.

P often wakes sobbing from nightmares, but if I practice the same white magic before bed, she sleeps peacefully.

No bad dreams, no bad dreams, no bad dreams, no bad dreams, no bad dreams.

I make a talisman of my worry and repeat to myself;

Come home, come home, come home, come home, come home, come home safe to me. Come home.