Life With A Single Parent

My father never visited us after the divorce. The few initial phone calls he made soon petered off. Quite slowly, I settled down into living with a single parent. Ours was a small family, now it had become smaller. My mother and I were the only members.

My ‘stay at home mom’ soon took up employment. She needed the job to provide for both of us. Her going out to work wreaked havoc in the routine we were used to. Though the mornings used to be hectic, evenings were the most difficult to handle. Reaching home before her, I used to be plagued by mixed emotions of sorrow, anger and confusion. However, what hurt me most was not turmoil in our routine; rather, it was the change in my mother’s personality. She rarely smiled. It was her habit to hum while working and now silence pervaded.

Yet, when I look back at those trouble-filled years, I feel no remorse. For, that period was a great learning experience for me.

A Learning Experience – My Mother Shaped My Personality

Being a latch key child, I used to experience great loneliness, upon returning home. Prior to the divorce my mother used to await my arrival. Her non-availability made me lonely. During these spells of loneliness, I used to think of my father too. Though I used to talk about him, my mother rarely mentioned him in my presence.

She neither deliberated over the past, nor did she ever wallow in self-pity. These qualities of hers gradually turned my love for her into deep admiration. Living in the present and facing challenges of life boldly, were the qualities I thus imbibed at a subconscious level. These traits helped me much, in later life.

However, one factor used to be a constant source of distress. My mother hardly seemed to have any time. Her waking hours were spent cooking, handling the domestic chores or rushing to office. I rarely saw her talking to her friends, watching TV or playing with our pet. Prior to the divorce, she used to be an avid reader. Now, she hardly touched a book. I knew that reading was her passion.

I later broached this issue with my grandfather, who used to visit us often. (He used to stay a few blocks away. My longing for a father, was fractionally fulfilled by his presence.) His advice appealed to me much and I resolved to try out his suggestion.

The Adjustments I Made

Following my grandfather’s instruction, I got up early with my mother, the next morning. While she worked in the kitchen I helped in whatever way I could. In the evening, I finished my studies before her arrival and helped her again with the house work. This seemed to halve her work load and she was free a few hours that day. We spent this time watching TV. That was the day I saw my mother smile, after a long duration.

Helping her became my daily practice and we began enjoying together, the two to three hours leisure she had. One day, I saw my mother dial her old friend’s number. I felt my life was back to normalcy. Only, I felt 12 no longer.

My Memories

My memories of my growing years are pleasant, albeit the few months following my parental divorce. Probably, the best memory of my childhood was of my mother’s birthday. That day, I gifted my mother a book by ‘Jeffrey Archer,’ titled, ‘Shall We Tell the President?’ The deep happiness my mother portrayed, surprised me. That night, when we were relaxing, my mother took out the book and read the first few pages. It was then I heard a strange yet extremely beautiful sound. My mother was humming while she turned the pages.

My life with my mother was happy, yet oddly difficult. We used to manage on a tight budget. Though we were financially affected, their divorce did not impact me academically or emotionally. For this I thank the inherent strength of my mother’s character. She was able to save me from the disastrous consequences that children of divorce face.