It’s been four days since we arrived at Seaside.
My goal the past few days has been to get settled in, as soon as possible, so I spent hours upon hours unpacking. When I would take a break, I would take Faith out, for some fresh air out in our backyard or to the shops for groceries. I won’t lie, despite the ridiculously high prices of everything, I’m finding it quite pleasant here. But it's certainly something I still have to adjust myself to.
Living more than half of my life as a nomad, I typically didn’t have any issues in the area of adapting. It's Faith who I'm concerned about. I’ll have to take Geillis’ advice with the utmost importance, and try my best to slowly ease her way into this new change.
Despite being young, Faith was accustomed to Boston, but we’ve left everything she knew and loved behind. Her favorite park around the corner from our former townhouse, her best playmate Mitsy, cuddling in front of the fireplace sipping a hot cup of cocoa on a cold snowy night, and most of all building her winter time friend, Olaf.
Well the best version of Olaf we could have produced, I’m sure Anna and Elsa would surely disapprove. His head was twice as big as the lower portion of his body, but perfection didn’t matter, because this was our time.
Our time to forget.
Forget the reality of what it was like in the four walls of that townhouse.
As routine, I always let Faith finish the last bit of his facial features. She attempted to align each olive into a smile with her small mittened fingers. When she wasn’t looking, I helped myself to a few olives. Unfortunately I had been caught red handed and earned myself an adorable scowl, “Mama no no you no eat.” She grabbed the olive from between my fingers, and placed it in its rightful spot, completing Olaf’s crooked smile.
I gave her all the credit where it belonged, by praising her, “Yay Faithie! You did it!”
The tip of her button nose and cheeks were fluorescent pink, she smiled revealing four incoming teeth.
“He Snowiiiiiieeeee mama!” She squealed as she pointed at Olaf. That’s when we promoted Olaf to Snowie.
Those were one of the few rare good moments, I wanted Faith to remember about Boston, not the bad ones.
However, life has proven to me that you can’t always get what you want.
The bad ones involved endless nights of arguing. If I was lucky enough, Faith would be already tucked in her crib listening to the sounds of the ocean to drown out the screams beyond the other side of her bedroom door. Screams that would lead to tears. Tears of unwanted feelings that were far beyond my control.
When there wasn’t screaming, the townhouse was dreadfully quiet.
Sometimes it felt as if a family didn’t live there. It felt empty.
I tried everyday, every waking moment, every second to fill that emptiness.
But it wasn’t enough.
I wasn’t enough.
No matter how many abstract Snowies we built, it wasn’t enough to make things right.
That one single night changed everything.
The memories of that night haunt me every sleeping moment now in the same constant nightmare.
Her subtle cries turn into wails. She was calling me, as much as I wanted to wrap her into my embrace and soothe her with words of love, I couldn’t.
The nightmare ends the same exact way it does every night, me leaving her.
Since that night, I have started to pray everyday, or at least attempt to. I had never been a religious person, nor cared for the establishments that practiced them. My prayers aren’t perfect, but I say them anyway.
I pray hard, to beg for forgiveness. Not from God himself, but from Faith.
She didn’t deserve any of this.
It was my fault we were here.
It was my fault there would be no more trips to her favorite park, no more playdates with Mitsy, no more cuddles in front of the fireplace on a snowy night with a hot cup of cocoa, and no more making crooked smiles on Snowie.
Seaside didn’t have any of those things.
I didn’t try hard enough to keep these things that she loved so much in her life.
I failed her.
One day she will learn of the things that I have done, and resent me for all of it.
My inability to be the one person she deserved to call mama.
I didn’t realize it but trails of tears were streaming down my cheeks, soaking the neckline of my t-shirt, lips quivering as I stifle a sob from escaping, knots forming in the place where I once held my Faith.
When that day comes, please lovey.
Go easy on me.