The Return

At Easter I took the kids to Butlins for a little break. This was five years after Laura and I took them to the same resort. Prior to booking I didn't quite anticipate how much returning there, to a place we'd been before, would effect me. On numerous occasions I watched the 2018 us in the same way Hollywood depicts a dream or memory scene with the main character watching himself in the past as if he was present in both timelines while the past version was totally unaware of his existence. 

On one occasion I was standing at the window of our second floor apartment room looking down at us as we walked along the path between the accommodation blocks. It was early evening, Laura was laughing and joking with an animated four year old Aden, who was pulling her along by the hand, excited about the evening ahead. I was walking behind her, carrying Hallie, who had probably walked a few yards before asking to be picked up. I was turning around in circles as I walked, her laugh while being spun around barely audible from the distance. We were probably on our way to dinner and a show as we were all dressed smartly. The scene was fleeting as they passed by, obscured by trees.

The sun was shining and me and the kids were walking along by The Diner and the ice cream parlour on the way to the swimming when I watched all of us go by on a Go Kart for four. It was one of those with a canopied roof. The kids were strapped into the front and we were in the seats behind them. Although it looked like we were both pedalling, it was obvious that I was doing the work and Laura was going through the motions. She was leaning forward trying to take photos of them on her phone. The kids were pointing at the ice cream parlour and as they pedalled by and I could hear Laura saying "Okay when we bring the Kart back we'll go if you face me for a photo". I was turning to say something to her but by that time they had gone past and I watched over my shoulder as they turned a corner and disappeared out of sight. 

We were standing in the queue to get our pictures taken with Peppa Pig and George in front of the green screen and ahead of us I watched us getting our pictures taken with Billy and Bonnie, the Butlins bears. I was standing with Aden in front of me with a hand on his shoulder and Laura was beside me holding Hallie in her arms. Both the kids had their toy Billy and Bonnie bears and Laura looked lovely in a red top and long back skirt. I watched myself ask if I could quickly take a picture of them with my phone before the next people in the queue were ushered forward by the Red Coat. I then watched us walk away into the crowd, Laura still carrying Hallie, the sky blue of her Monsoon dress brightly contrasted against Laura's red. 

I'm sitting at a table on my own while the kids are sitting on the floor in front of the stage watching The Skyline Gang perform one of their many song and dance routines. From a distance I'm watching the kids like a hawk. They are happy; Aden is jumping up to see if he can get a high five from one of the Gang and Hallie is waving her flag of Rainbow the Dog from their act and holding her Rainbow cuddly toy, a sure sign to the Gang that she was a fan. Sitting at the table I turn around to the seat beside me in the same way that I still do when I'm driving, but it's empty. Laura-less. My heart sinks. I look around me. Every single table is taken up by complete family units. Happy, smiling, family units. I'm smiling through it. I'm smiling because I have to, because I need to. Returning has been difficult, I just didn't realise how difficult it would be. It is somehow different from frequenting restaurants or the cinema or other places we all used to go together. I don't know why. They are as much a happy together memory as Butlins. It just seems different. More emotional. I had those types of flashback all weekend. All of us at the arcades. All of us sitting eating fish and chips. All of us queuing to go see a show. All of us at the swimming. All equally as vivid. All equally as sad and sigh worthy. All causing me to repeatedly swallow the lump in my throat. However, I pushed it back, held it down and kept it in. A brave face is the default face. They need me to be strong. They need to know that everything will be okay. There will be times when the façade needs to be dropped. Times when we can cry together, feel sad together and let it out together. Holiday isn't one of those times. 

As we left after the show to go back to our apartment I had a quick glance over my shoulder a few times in the hope that I should spy a slightly older me in the crowd looking in our direction. Hoping that that version of me would acknowledge me with a nod and a slight smile and a look that said "you're doing okay". I didn't see him. But Laura was there. Hidden somewhere in the crowd. 

Watching. As always.