CommunionBy Jet Bootsma, 11 June, 2018
It is THE event children look forward to most. The biggest party of them all. Dressed like a little captain, or a miniature bride, being spoiled to bits, more presents then you have ever dreamt of, only for you!
But… hell and damnation… your parents don’t believe in any God.
Wait… then a friend does invite you to her communion. The incredible honor! The joy! Now you also can put on your most pretty dress, and you even get a new pantyhose.
The day has arrived, and you also look like a little bride, inverted that is. Wearing all black; dress, tacones… only the peace-signs in your ears are silver. So pretty you are, and oh so happy. Mom does not feel so pretty. She does not have nice dresses, nor does she have such an incredible smile. Should she stay at the party? Is it impolite if she’d just go?
Mom am I, and I do decide to dress up for the occasion. No, no dress, but still. You never know. Festive blouse, matching gran’s silly handbag that she gave the kids to dress up with when they play house, Hair in a tidy bun… glossy lips, and off we go.
I drive even slower then I usually do with our old van, I think we left home too early, stupid Dutch that we will always remain. Rose doesn’t speak a word, the silence is tense… Nerves? Not knowing what to expect? Thankgod we are not the first to arrive, there are many cars already.
Just as I park the van, a bit at the back, the mini bride arrives. My god she’s beautiful, and also her mom looks absolutely radiant. I feel gran’s dress-up-handbag looking silly in my hand, and know I don’t belong. Both mom’s know, instant clarity is created ’Rosa, say goodbye to your mother’ she says as the girls enthousiastically embrace. She directs to me; ‘What time will you pick her up?’
Without having had to make a fool of myself I can drive back home. Relief was to be expected, but is not what I feel. Alonelyness is a word that comes to mind.
Not belonging sucks.