I love taking vacations. I hate that too. Anxiety always grips me a few days before the trip. While I book, I am in ecstasy. When it’s time to pack my suitcase, I’m nervous. And when I’m on my way to the airport, I have regrets. I leave my dogs behind me. My house. My comfort. I love the life I’ve built. As if I was never going to come back. That I was going to miss something. Once at your destination, everything falls apart. The fear, the anguish, the regrets. I am happy. And I disconnect.
It all starts when I buy a plane ticket.
I am with my friend Andréanne. In my library. My reading room. We dream of going to Sicily. To walk in the postcard. Especially since I watched season two of the show The White Lotus. I want to meet a handsome Italian who will guide me to the best gelato. Smell the aromas of tomato on the pizzas. Drinking a glass of wine on a mountain.
Click on the “Book this flight” button. We look at each other, shouting a little.
My mother rings the doorbell. She comes to join me to accompany me to a shoot. She calls me from the stairwell. I answer him: “I am upstairs! She walks up the stairs asking me who owns the car behind mine. “It’s up to Andréanne. »
“Ah, hello Andréanne! »
My mother notices my mean smile. Accomplished. Lively.
“What are you hiding?
“We’re going to Italy!” »
My mother looks at Andréanne to validate the news. She smiles at him. She looks at the computer screen. She confirms the purchase.
My mother’s eyes never lie. She is seized with a fit of jealousy. Of envy. As if she felt betrayed.
” And me ? »
– What you ? »
I understand what she wants to tell me. Like a child who couldn’t find the words. The ones she found stop at these.
My mother, she is like that. She says things, then retracts. She doesn’t want to rush me. She just wants to tell me what she’s going through.
Some would find her baby. I find it touching. Being 63 years old and communicating your emotions. His desires.
“I want to go to Italy too. »
I find this beautiful. Too much. Intense. But true. However, when I was young, I didn’t ask for anything. My mother had taught me not to give the impression that I lacked something. Now the roles are reversed. She understands the power of asking. To take a risk.
“Besides, it will be 20 years this summer that I am married. »
“And what are you going to do?” »
– Go to Italy ! »
I looked at my friend. She smiled. I laughed. My mother asked her, as one begs for a dollar for candy: “Andréanne, can I come with François?” That would be my dream! »
” But of course ! We’re going to be an even number. »
My mother ran down the stairs. Rushed into the fridge. Took the bottle of wine she had brought. Grabbed three wine goblets. I heard the thud of glass shattering on the floor. “Fuck! »
“Are you okay? »
– Yes, it does not matter. We’re going to Italy! »
A child.
Ten minutes later, two other tickets were “booked”.
I love taking vacations. I hate that too. Anxiety always grips me a few days before the trip. But now that my mom is here, it seems like everything takes on a whole new meaning. I won’t miss her. She will be there with me.
Even though I know that after two days, we’re going to get on each other’s nerves.
It doesn’t matter, Italy is big.
Have a good summer everyone.