sep 18

Lonely Hearts Motel, part one.

Jeg er ikke alene. Mange blikke og ord veksles i løbet af dagen. Hver eneste nat sover vi fire mennesker under det samme tag, hver morgen går vi fire mennesker ud ad den samme dør. Vi kysser og krammer i afsked. Hejhej, vi ses senere.

Min mailboks er fuld. Min søster sender mig en sms med et spørgsmålstegn når jeg efter to dage stadig ikke har svaret på hendes besked, min kæreste ringer i hans frokostpause og spørger til min dag, og minder mig om at jeg på et tidspunkt skal lægge arbejdet fra mig og gå ned i kantinen og spise. Du bliver nødt til at forebygge migræneanfaldene, skat.

Jeg er ikke alene. Min telefon ringer flere gange om dagen. Nogle gange er det arbejde, nogle gange er det min mor som vil snakke om hendes aften forinden i dartklubben, nogle gange ringer hun blot for at høre hvad jeg laver. Det lyder hyggeligt, min skat. Nå, mig? Jamen jeg står bare i køkkenet og laver agurkesalat.

Min søn græder når jeg siger farvel i vuggestuen, og jeg ringer ned en halv time senere for at høre om han er okay. Han er helt okay, det gik hurtigt over. Men jeg går alligevel en time tidligere fra arbejde. Min datter stopper gyngen brat og snubler i sine gummistøvler når hun, med åbne arme, løber mig i møde når jeg henter hende i børnehaven. Jeg begraver næsen i hendes hovedbund, og under de bagerste hårstrå dufter hun som da jeg holdt hende i mine arme den første gang. Om aftenen når børnene sover, køber min kæreste chokolade med hele hasselnødder med hjem fra kiosken, selvom jeg irriteret sagde nej da han spurgte om jeg skulle have noget med.

I ulvetimen ringer min svigermor på FaceTime, mine bedsteforældre ringer på Messenger. De er altid i frøperspektiv, og vi vinker til hinanden, og lover hinanden at vi snart ses igen.

Jeg tænker meget på at flytte fra byen, nogle aftener sidder vi i sofaen og snakker om hvor dejligt det ville være med noget mere plads, en have at boltre sig i og at være foruden naboernes larm. Så ville børnene heller ikke vågne hele tiden, siger jeg, men tanken giver mig også hjertebanken og om vi nogensinde kommer af sted, det ved jeg ikke. Her synes alligevel at være for meget at flytte væk fra.

Jeg er ikke alene, men alligevel finder jeg ofte mig selv at føle netop det – alene.

…..

 

I’m not alone. Many looks and words are exchanged every day. We sleep four people under the same roof every single night, and every single morning the four of us walk out of the same door. We say our goodbyes with kisses and hugs. Goodbye, see you later.

My mailbox is full. My sister sends me a text message with a question mark when I still haven’t responded to her message after two days. My boyfriend calls me in his lunch break just to ask me about my day, and to remind me to take a break from work, and go down to the cafeteria and have some lunch. You need to prevent the migraine attacks, honey.

I’m not alone. My phone rings several times a day. Sometimes it’s work, and sometimes it’s my mother who wants to fill me in about her night before in the local darts club. Sometimes she just wants to know what I’m up too. That sounds so lovely, my dear. Oh well, me? I’m in the kitchen, making pickles.

My son cries when I say goodbye to him in the nursery, and I call them half an hour later to ask if he’s okay. He’s okay. He got over it right away. But I leave an hour earlier from work anyway. My daughter stops the swing in just one second, and stumbles in her rubber boots when she runs towards me with her arms open when I pick her up from kindergarten. I bury my noise in her hair, and there, in her strands of hair in the very back, she smells like when I held her in my arms for the very first time. In the evening, when the kids are asleep, my boyfriend buys me that dark chocolate with whole hazelnuts that I like, even though I for some reason was annoyed when he asked me if I needed anything from the grocery store.

My mother-in-law calls on FaceTime during rush hour, my grandparents call on Messenger. They are always in a worm’s eye view, and we wave to each other, and promise that we will see each other very soon.

I think a lot about moving away from the city, some evenings we sit on the couch and talk for hours about how nice it would be with some more space, a garden for the kids and to be without the noise from the neighbors. I bet the kids wouldn’t wake up as much at night then, I say. But the thought alone makes my heart skip a beat, and I wonder if we ever will take the big step. I don’t know. It seems like there is too much to move away from anyway.

I’m not alone, and yet I often find myself feeling just that. Alone.

 

 

I samarbejde med Pechuga og Lonely hearts motel vil jeg over de næste dage dele nogle små skriverier om ensomhed. Læs meget mere om projektet her. 

 

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