A Portal Unknown

Chances Are

"Jon! Don't go too far yeah? Stay where I can see you!" I yelled out to my 6 year old son. I was 25, dirt poor and living out of a caravan in a caravan park. 

 "Yes mum!," came the reply. 

 I wasn't entirely sure how I got to this point, only that I was born to a single mum who had since passed, lost interest in school early on and dropped out when I was 13. I was taken in by social services after she died, since I had no relatives I knew of who could take care of me. It was a dark and bleak few years where I tried to find my way in the world and resorted to doing odd jobs when I turned 16 but never quite had the grit to last through any of them. 

When I finally saved up enough to rent a small place, my mismanagement of what little money I had earned couldn't sustain me and I was soon forced out of the apartment due to rental arrears. Boys fleeted in and out of my life. With no guidance and never having ever met my father, I had no male figure to look up to. My life had since been devoid of any form of relationship with either parent. 

I was thrust into a world of lust, deceit and manipulation. Abused, fragile and broken, I got pregnant when I was 19 and then decided to buy a small caravan and park myself away from it all to raise my unborn child in whichever best way I could. Somehow above it all, I always knew I had a compass. My conscience was clear and though it had been tested from time to time, I knew the essence of right and wrong. I tried to use the good in me to steer me in the right direction and always had hope for the future. The flame of hope flickered every so often but I fought to keep it alive each day and now more than ever, I had to fight even harder to keep it burning. 

 We didn't have much, Jon and I, but he had me and we had love. I loved him the minute he was in my womb and even more so when his first shrill cry silenced the commotion of the hospital room. I never experienced anything like this before- this boundless, infinite love for a child, a part of me who was growing up, seeing the world with a fresh perspective and untameable optimism. 

Some days, I hated myself for not providing enough, for bringing him into my lacklustre world of opportunity and not being able to give him a foot up over everyone else to begin with. That was everything, I thought. Just being born into the right lineage would be helpful no? But you don't choose your family. You're born into it. I wanted to provide just a bit more than the bare minimum, a bit more than just a rusty roof on wheels and a bit more than cold dinners in a decrepit setting, because he deserved it. 

I strived to do just that, but how? I felt stuck waist deep in mud that hardened by the minute. Jon though, brought me smiles and laughter with each passing day. That, all in all, helped to ease the existential burden on my shoulders. I was a single mum and reliving my life as my mum had done but I was determined not to repeat it. I was still young and my flame of hope was still very much alive. 

 The caravan park where I based myself was not entirely legal nor was it in such a prime spot where it warranted a police shoo-away anytime soon. There were about 11 caravans parked there at any one time and they were a mixed bag of gypsies, wronged individuals, families in limbo just trying to get by and also people just like me, struggling to balance it all whilst clutching onto some semblance of composure and decency. The park was centred around a lake, which was actually a great bonus. 

It was peaceful, calm, a natural playground for the children from the various families to splash in and huddle around come evenings and most definitely a sight for sore eyes in the mornings. The lake would absorb my thoughts most mornings, churn them during the day and somehow spit them out each evening. I had clarity just gazing at it, losing myself in its glistening stillness. 

 Jon was only 6 but had already formed a firm friendship with a group of children around his age. He was out playing with them most hours of the day, being as creative as what only young children could be- imagining a make belief world for themselves, inventing games, assigning a leader, cooperating and collaborating. It could be mundane to watch as a layperson but I was fascinated by how free little minds could be. They made do and had fun with what little resources they had, flexing their minds which were not yet moulded by what society expected from them. Free from judgement, expectations, skin colour or sex, their young eyes saw freedom, a chance to explore, a chance to expand their circle so they could have more friends to catch, more to share toys with.