It felt pleasant when on the curves my hair touched the sides of my face. The hair was thin and the touch was light and gentle.  The car drove smoothly on the night road. My son was sleeping on the back seat. It was past ten. The serpentine road opened up new curve with more pine trees. Then the road went up the hill and then we were driving on the top for a little while.

The air was clean. The moon was high and round. And the road was lit with the moonlight and it did not seem night at all.

I had picked up my son from the friends’ house where he had spent the whole day together with his sister. My daughter stayed for a sleepover, my son wanted to come home with me. He told me we will make a deal, he would only stay for sleepovers when I needed to be in the city till late for work. All other nights he would sleep at home. I told him it was a deal, he does not have to sleepover at his friends’ if he does not want to, unless it is needed. Reassured he felt asleep in the car. He liked to sleep at home. He liked to sleep in my bed, and on Saturdays I let him sleep there, because I did not have to wake up early on Sundays. He was the only person who sometimes slept in my bed. He curled with his “doudou” (this  is how you call your favorite plush toy in French) and he did not move much the whole night.

And now he was asleep on the back seat of the car and we were driving. The car felt safe and the night forest was all around us. You could hear the night like a melody, a little bit sad and easy to hum. And tears started rolling down my face. It has been a long day and I have been working since morning. I have been typing work emails and having calls with my advisors and the developer. And talking. And yet I did not hear one gentle word in the whole day. And I barely said any. Of course we talked, but there were no love in those words. And I was wondering now if a day was worth living if no love was in the words one said. The kids were getting used to the rooms where no words of love were pronounced.

And then I thought that people said it was good to cry. And I wondered “was it?”. And it occurred to me that it was not. It was much better to laugh than to cry. It was much better to love than to cry. Crying is just a part of our humanness, love is the whole.

As we were driving the road was like velvet. Smooth and even, and the wheels rolled calmly and the whole world was calm. And finally I was calm too. And I thought how we would arrive home and how I would help my son climb into my bed and how peaceful his face would be. And I thought that there was still a lot of life ahead of us and that I should build our next house with love. They need to know what love is. They need to know that love is not two people who live under one roof fighting. They need to know that love is more than one person alone doing pretty much everything but rarely laughing. They need to know that love is balanced, abundant and makes all people under the roof happy. Or else how would they learn to build their families with love?

And it was quiet in the car.

And then it got even quieter.

Driving down the hill, after another curve, two stars became visible high up in the sky and, surprisingly to myself, I prayed.  And on the next turn my hair flew over my face and the touch was sweet and gentle. Like a loving hand. And combed by the moonlight the night road shined at the bottom of the hill.