Maria stared out the window while stirring sugar into a fresh cup of coffee. Her mind wondered about the amount of sugar she had put in her coffee. “I’m starting to believe I have a sugar problem”, she thought “it’s not a coffee addiction”, as her heart skipped a bit, and she smiled, “just like Bis coffee”.

Bis, aka Grandma Bilete, was her Father’s mother. The two of them shared a special bond, that wasn’t easy to describe. It was as though they understood each other’s minds and tastes in life, despite the fact that they belonged to two completely different generations. When Grandma had passed, she felt that part of her was gone too. She longed for her Grandma’s smile and kind words. She was sorry that her son didn’t have the chance to hug his Great-grandma. Maria had miss the whole funeral thing, because her boy was a few weeks old, and she was now living in a different land.

“It was better this way”, she thought. “Now I actually get to always remember her face with some fresh applied blush, and a nice sugary cup of coffee”. Bis was also the reason Maria liked coffee so much: the memories a cup of coffee could bring her were the best ones.

That morning was a dreary one. As she stared out the window, rain had taken over for the past two days, and it looked like not much was about to change. It was the beginning of April, the blurry rainy season in the north country. Through the window, she could see the flooded backyard. She looked pitifully, “Poor dogs. This is going to be another inside day”. Yet her mind cheered: “April showers, bring May flowers. Just hang in there, green grass and motorcycle weather are just around the corner”.

With a little pirouette, Maria turned around and headed to the refrigerator to grab fixings to prepare her son’s school lunch. Like most weekday mornings, “Todo dia ela faz tudo sempre igual”, she sang a verse of the song “Cotidiano”, from Brazilian singer/songwriter/writer (and any other intelectual kind of stamp there is) Chico Buarque.

Ohh… the things her mind could wonder about while simple stirring sugar into a cup of coffee. In less than five minutes, she worried about her sugar intake. This led her to happy memories of her Grandmother Bis, whom would have love to stare at the flooded backyard, searching for birds, while wondering about Maria’s motorcycle ride. Yet, riding was only possible because Maria’s (now) 6 years old son had an eight hour long school day… Speaking of school … Maria suddenly felt reminded of her routine of fixing the boy’s lunch, making the breakfast, and getting the house going. “…Todo dia ela diz que é pra eu me cuidar, e essas coisas que diz toda mulher / Diz que está me esperando pro jantar, e me beija com a boca de café… tralala”, she sang thoughfully.



Home office

As vezes tudo que eu queria é que minha fantasia de um “home office” se transformasse em realidade. Porque a realidade é assim: bater uma máquina de roupa entre um texto e outro e, ainda, ter um astronauta acampando embaixo da mesa.


Eu sei que vou morrer de saudades dessa fase da pessoa pequena, mas tem dias que dá vontade de acelerar pro mês de setembro, quando ele finalmente começa a escola em período normal – kindegarden – por aqui. Como não temos pré-escola, ou a criança vai para um day-care (creche) ou fica com um dos pais. As escolinhas são muito limitadas em relação ao tempo – normalmente oferecem período de 2 horas e meia, três vezes por semana.

Eu e meu Parça in crime optamos por stay-home parent (que traduz para pai/mãe que fica em casa). Eu, no caso, sou o que stay-home (na minha família dá pra falar que sou um mix de stay home e stay in the car porque a gente mora na floresta e nada fica perto de casa). Sarcasmo a parte, eu sinceramente não troco essa vida. Mas também não escondo que um período mais longo de me time será excelente para o rendimento do home-office.

Até 😉