Patience

Though the Rascals and I haven’t met in ages, I have kept in touch with Shanna and Charlotte through phone calls and social media.

As she had been planning for a long time now, Shanna quit her career as a journalist to begin a career in politics, which she started as a charity events organizer. She was now rising in the San Myshuno spheres, from office to office and position of influence to position of even more influence, but always, in true Shanna fashion, worried first about her moral compass and sense of justice, and very, very last, about what anyone might think of her.

Her hours were long, but Shanna knew, she felt, down to her gut, that it was right.

Charlotte had kept her course in fashion, and from assistant in a magazine, she had risen to designer for a well-known couture brand. She still dreamed of starting her very own brand, but she wasn’t quite there yet.

This did mean that you would never see her outside of their new, slightly bigger flat, without flawless make-up and designer clothes.

Shanna and Charlotte were sure to keep in touch, not only with me, but with my mothers, as they had very specific questions to ask them. To be precise, questions about me.

Shanna always comes home later than Charlotte.

So she often gets there in the middle of Charlotte and Patience’s activity of the evening.

Charlotte was always very self-centered; but since Patience was born, her bubble of awareness has grown to encompass her daughter, as well.

The only downside of giving your toddler your undivided attention is, of course, that you might entirely miss the sound of your companion coming through the front door.

Thankfully, Patience hears, and sees, that her mom is back.

“Hey darling!”

“Don’t mind me, keep going! I’ll hug her when you’re done.”

But now Charlotte’s attention got divided…

Not for long though. Just long enough for Shanna to sit close and listen.

Shanna is never too tired to have a magical wrestling match with her daughter — even in the first hours of dawn.

It takes Charlotte a bit longer to wake up, so she just watches.

“How about you make breakfast, Lotte?”

“Pancakes, Mommy, pancakes!”

“You got it!”

Charlotte never cared much for cooking, but she did learn how to make some mean pancakes.

I don’t think she’s ever been happier than she can be struggling with pancake dough.

“You should come visit, Azalea,” they tell me. “The view here is even better than in our last apartment!”

“Ours is not bad either,” I always reply. “But I’ll see it when I come ‘round!”

But we’re all very busy; and none of us hardly ever comes around anymore.