Time to Let Go by Christoph Fischer

what was he to do with the bad parts?
    It made him think of his own life. Was it right that Walter reminded his wife only of the good and pleasant moments of their life together, or was that censorship in itself? He justified it to himself with the fact that Biddy could no longer learn from her negative experiences. If she couldn’t remember tomorrow what she had learned and processed today, it was just unnecessary torture. So, what could people learn from Kari’s life?
    He was shocked when he looked at his wrist watch. Walter had not noticed how quickly the time had gone. He had missed lunch in this morbid fascination with the past and his agonising over what was right and what was wrong: he had completely forgotten all about the present. Such were the dangers of serious occupation and commitment to a task. He could only hope that someone in the future would appreciate all the time and effort he was putting into the family chronicle. Otherwise, this was a useless exercise at the expense of his presence, as Hanna had once said.
    His wife and daughter had not returned from town yet. He shouldn’t let Hanna spend too much time on her own with her mother. His daughter was good hearted and insisted that he take some time out for himself, which he probably needed, but the three of them should also try and cr eate new memories as a family; maybe not for Biddy’s sake but at least for Hanna’s and his.
    He really needed to have something to eat quickly and so he rushed down the stairs and made a sandw ich. Afterwards, he took the opportunity to do some more work in the garden. He got the trimmer out of the garage and started to cut back the hedge, a rewarding job that showed immediate and dramatic effects in only a short period of time. He was still convinced that the neighbours deliberately let the hedge overgrow on their side, but he would just have to let that one go. Pleased with his efforts and the feeling that he had used the time alone wisely, and that he was back on top of his life, he decided to sit down and read his book.
    Hanna and Biddy did not return to the house until 5pm. By then Walter had become very nervous but his daughter did not answer her phone. He decided not to leave a message since Hanna would only take offence that he was checking up on her. Presumably, Biddy would not have had an afternoon nap and often that turned her in to a darker version of herself, something that Hanna was not as familiar with as he was. It was not a pleasant experience and he wished his daughter could be spared such a memory, but now that he thought it inevitable, maybe it would teach his daughter a lesson and would get her to understand why he was sticking to routine. But of course, Hanna was going out tonight and would not be the one to pick up the pieces if Biddy became fractious and cranky.
    “Hello, we are back!” shouted Hanna as she entered the hallway. “Dad, where are you?”
    Walter came down the stairs and said a shy “Hello, welcome back.”
    The unspoken words of “Where have you been?” and “ Don’t get mad at me Dad!” weighed heavily in the air.
    “I need a bath,” Biddy announced abruptly.
    Hanna remembered how Biddy hated the smell of chlorine. She took her mother upstairs and ran her a bath. She stayed with her until the bathtub had filled up, then she went to her room to unpack her bag. She looked in on her mother twice but since everything seemed fine she went back downstairs. Walter finally gave up the cat and mouse game and asked her, as neutrally as he could muster, where they had spent their afternoon.
    “After the pool we went to a beauty parlour,” Hanna reported dutifully. “We had our nails done and I had a facial. It was rather nic e and before you worry, yes, Mum had a little nap while I had a facial. She had a really great time being pampered, particularly for someone who always felt so guilty for every little luxury she allowed herself. I just wish she had done this more often in