Can we try again?

Eighty

For days after my conversation with Bernie, I mulled over what to write on this text message to Daniel. How do I even start? Where do I start? The pressure from both Oma and Bernie didn't help much. They kept on asking whether I'd done it and my response was always the same - I'm still trying to figure out what to write to him. 

Girl if you don't send that message to him, I will do it myself o, was Oma's reply.

My two friends have both been able to convince me, now it was to actually for me to suck it up and make the move. But it seems like I was stuck. The worries in my head were preventing me from making that move. I was overthinking, making up ridiculous scenarios in my head.

I'd now saved the number on my phone as 'Daniel'. So that was a step - the first step I'd taken. I hovered my fingers over his contact on my phone screen many times, thinking of what to start typing. Should I make it a long paragraph? Or just go straight to the point? Surely, he'd want more than 'oh hi, I'm Samira, your son's mother.' He'd want to know more.
I would if I were him.

***

Saturday came with promises of heavy snow for the evening. It was all over the news. 90% chance of it snowing, the weather forecast informed and it sounded like this time it was for real. It was all over social media too. People talking about it; some happy, and others not too keen on the snow. Vehicles were being warned to be careful out there. For me, I was just excited that at last, I'd get to have the experience of seeing the snow. The real thing. Not the flaky showers that fell a few days ago, which all melted before anyone would even say, Jack Robinson.
I wanted to be able to play in the snow, build a snowman, have a snowball fight, make snow angels as I see on TV.

At midday, I decided to go out with Jameel for a quick trip to the supermarket. From peering through the window at the grey skies and frosty weather and looking at the weather app on my phone, I could see that the temperature was in the negatives. With both of us well and fully wrapped up, we set out.

It was unusually busy in the supermarket. I wondered if it was due to the promise of snow for the evening. It was as though everyone was making preparations for a huge disaster.

"Trust me, girl, when British people hear the forecast of heavy snow, as well as excitement, panic ensues. You see people running helter-skelter trying to buy milk, egg, bread, tissue paper and all the necessities." Bernie had laughed when she told me. "Seriously, no one wants to be stuck out, driving in the snow to the supermarket just because they've run out of milk."

It all made sense to me now. I could see that now, I thought to myself. I wandered purposefully through each aisle, glancing at my list, picking the items from the shelves and putting them in my trolley and at the same time trying to tell Jameel to stop messing around and behave himself. 
He'd been in one of his moods recently where it was extremely difficult to tell him what to do or to stay put. I'd have to repeat myself several times before he manages to listen, reluctantly. And minutes after, he's out again doing exactly what I told him not to do. My patience with him was thinning out and I was seriously considering smacking him. But that wasn't happening in public. It would have to wait until we get home. 

I queued up at the till emptying my trolley and waiting for my things to be scanned. As I stood there, I rummaged through my bag looking for my purse. And that's when I realised. My heart sank.

My purse wasn't in this bag. It was in my work bag which was currently lying on the floor beside my bed.

Shit!