01-01-2022, 03:48 AM
(This post was last modified: 01-01-2022, 03:49 AM by Lollobionda. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Martin bent down and gave Norman, his 7-year-old son, a kiss on the forehead.
The cot squeaked slightly as the 34-year-old leaned forward, supporting himself on the edge of the bed. Norman had already closed his eyes and his father didn't know if he had already fallen asleep or if he was just too tired to react.
When Martin slowly sat up again, he looked at his son in the light of the small bedside lamp.
He loved him.
It was his everything and on some days, like Christmas now, he couldn't help but indulge in sentimental feelings. Martin just sat and looked at Norman. He should go back to the hairdresser after the holidays, it went through Martin's mind as he looked at a long strand hanging down Norman's forehead. Finally, his son's breaths were even and deep and Martin was sure he was now asleep.
It was the first Christmas they had to spend alone now, after Norman's mother had died in a car accident exactly one year ago, on Christmas Eve. Like a film, the images reappeared before Martin's eyes. The images when the doorbell rang at noon and he saw the two security officermen standing there. He had immediately guessed that something must have happened to Ashley, his wife. But the first thoughts that she would probably have to stay in hospital for a while and that everything would be fine again had then been quickly dispelled by the two security officermen in the living room. She would not have had a chance, they said. An oncoming truck had overtaken her. She had probably braked and in doing so had skidded and crashed directly into the truck. The driver who had caused the accident, however, was a fugitive.
The security officer searched for a chrysler for several weeks, but were unable to find it. The lorry driver had not seen the number plate again. At first, it was said that it would not be difficult to find the car, as the chrysler had still collided with Ashley's car at the right rear and therefore there must have been a little damage to the rear wing. When the car came in for repair, at the latest, they would know. At first, this kept Martin busy for a while, but later only emptiness remained in his life.
It was hard for both of them at first and Martin had often asked himself why some couples got divorced only to be as alone as he had often felt since the death of his wife. Ashley had been his childhood sweetheart and he couldn't have found a better wife. He had loved Ashley more than anything and it had taken him a few months to slowly pick himself up mentally. For a long time he had felt as if he had fallen into a hole from which there could be no way out.
But now it was all catching up with him again. Christmas, a festival of joy? Perhaps, but also a festival of remembrance and thoughts! He felt that he still hadn't got over her death.
Quietly he got up and left Norman's room. After closing the children's room door quietly, he listened at the door again to see if Norman was really asleep. But even at that moment Martin could not have said whether he was just listening out of concern for his son to see if he had really fallen asleep, or whether he was simply looking to be close to this, his, no, their child.
Finally, he almost had to jerk himself away from the door and go back into the living room. The electric candles were still burning on the Christmas tree and only now, when Martin entered the room, did he notice that the toys he had given Norman were all scattered on the floor. The little train set as well as the pirate ship made of Lego bricks.
More out of habit and to dispel the silence, he knelt on the floor, put the toys together and only then dropped down on the couch. His gaze fixed on the electric candles and he remembered how he had bought the candles and some other ornaments at a Christmas market with Ashley a few years ago. It had been a small, almost dingy stall and they had felt kind of sorry for the old woman standing in the stall, thickly muffled up and wearing old, worn and probably home-knitted gloves. Actually, they hadn't wanted to buy anything, but in the end they had a big box to lug home.
Martin felt himself getting melancholic and a tear came loose and rolled down his cheek. No, that was the last thing he wanted now: to sit in the living room and mourn his wife again. She was dead, he had to deal with that. There was another life too.But this damned tree and these candles...
The cot squeaked slightly as the 34-year-old leaned forward, supporting himself on the edge of the bed. Norman had already closed his eyes and his father didn't know if he had already fallen asleep or if he was just too tired to react.
When Martin slowly sat up again, he looked at his son in the light of the small bedside lamp.
He loved him.
It was his everything and on some days, like Christmas now, he couldn't help but indulge in sentimental feelings. Martin just sat and looked at Norman. He should go back to the hairdresser after the holidays, it went through Martin's mind as he looked at a long strand hanging down Norman's forehead. Finally, his son's breaths were even and deep and Martin was sure he was now asleep.
It was the first Christmas they had to spend alone now, after Norman's mother had died in a car accident exactly one year ago, on Christmas Eve. Like a film, the images reappeared before Martin's eyes. The images when the doorbell rang at noon and he saw the two security officermen standing there. He had immediately guessed that something must have happened to Ashley, his wife. But the first thoughts that she would probably have to stay in hospital for a while and that everything would be fine again had then been quickly dispelled by the two security officermen in the living room. She would not have had a chance, they said. An oncoming truck had overtaken her. She had probably braked and in doing so had skidded and crashed directly into the truck. The driver who had caused the accident, however, was a fugitive.
The security officer searched for a chrysler for several weeks, but were unable to find it. The lorry driver had not seen the number plate again. At first, it was said that it would not be difficult to find the car, as the chrysler had still collided with Ashley's car at the right rear and therefore there must have been a little damage to the rear wing. When the car came in for repair, at the latest, they would know. At first, this kept Martin busy for a while, but later only emptiness remained in his life.
It was hard for both of them at first and Martin had often asked himself why some couples got divorced only to be as alone as he had often felt since the death of his wife. Ashley had been his childhood sweetheart and he couldn't have found a better wife. He had loved Ashley more than anything and it had taken him a few months to slowly pick himself up mentally. For a long time he had felt as if he had fallen into a hole from which there could be no way out.
But now it was all catching up with him again. Christmas, a festival of joy? Perhaps, but also a festival of remembrance and thoughts! He felt that he still hadn't got over her death.
Quietly he got up and left Norman's room. After closing the children's room door quietly, he listened at the door again to see if Norman was really asleep. But even at that moment Martin could not have said whether he was just listening out of concern for his son to see if he had really fallen asleep, or whether he was simply looking to be close to this, his, no, their child.
Finally, he almost had to jerk himself away from the door and go back into the living room. The electric candles were still burning on the Christmas tree and only now, when Martin entered the room, did he notice that the toys he had given Norman were all scattered on the floor. The little train set as well as the pirate ship made of Lego bricks.
More out of habit and to dispel the silence, he knelt on the floor, put the toys together and only then dropped down on the couch. His gaze fixed on the electric candles and he remembered how he had bought the candles and some other ornaments at a Christmas market with Ashley a few years ago. It had been a small, almost dingy stall and they had felt kind of sorry for the old woman standing in the stall, thickly muffled up and wearing old, worn and probably home-knitted gloves. Actually, they hadn't wanted to buy anything, but in the end they had a big box to lug home.
Martin felt himself getting melancholic and a tear came loose and rolled down his cheek. No, that was the last thing he wanted now: to sit in the living room and mourn his wife again. She was dead, he had to deal with that. There was another life too.But this damned tree and these candles...
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