I am sad.

I don’t think I’m ready to go back to school. I mean, I’ve barely been home for long enough to feel the holidays. I knew that the holidays were going to be short, but I thought that, at least, I would have had enough time to get over the trauma that is last semester.

And now, I sit in my room all alone, anxious about what is to come. I’ve really been trying to avoid thinking about this time, where I’ll have to pack my bags and say goodbye to my mom only to be lonely here by myself. But you can’t really run away from the inevitable things in this life, can you? I mean there are so many things we would like to avoid for as long as humanly possible – like that crappy thing called waking up in the wee hours of a cold night to go the bathroom. But we can’t really avoid these things forever, can we?

My mom wasn’t all too happy about it. I just called her to let her know I arrived safely and she just was the opposite of happy.

“Did you really, really have to go Zinzi?” mom said, her voice teary, again. It doesn’t really matter to her how many times we’ve had moments exactly like these. I thought by now she’d have gotten used to it already. I mean, I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself. But no, for her, every time I leave feels like the very first time.

Leaving was hard enough – me packing and her crying and me feeling like a daughter who doesn’t care about her mother’s feelings.

“I’ll call, mama,” I said. She looked at me like I said something I shouldn’t have said. “There’s no day that passes without us talking, mama. I’m just a phone call away,” I said as a last attempt to appease her. But she was not convinced.

And now her face haunts me, saying it all; saying it loud enough. She’s got this look that makes me feel like I’ve disappointed her big time.
“What’s the use of having children if they all desert you when they grow up?” she said on the phone, in a cold voice I don’t recognise as hers. And it hurts like hell. I mean, where’s that coming from? It’s not like I left for no reason.

“I’m at school for heaven’s sake,” I lost my cool. I was shouting at her without intending to. I just don’t understand why every time I leave we have to fight. But to say I’ve deserted her? That’s wrong in so many ways.
“What school, Zinzi? Schools only re-open next week,” she said, “and most kids don’t even show up in that first week. You chose to go so you can go to the Vryfees festival. You chose it over me.”

“It’s not true!” I shouted, but she was not there. She’d already dropped the phone on me. There’s an arts festival going on at campus this coming week and it ends tomorrow. Our lecturer had asked us to help her with the shooting of interviews with the artists but I couldn’t because I couldn’t leave mom. And now I’ve missed the festival and I don’t really feel like being here. Thanks a lot mom. I miss you too.

ZZ xx