– Is that all? – her mother asked while tying an apron with such a serious expression, as if she were about to perform heart surgery, not a quinoa salad and tartlets.
– That is all. I have done the other things. The chocolate balls and the roasted carrots with the double glaze are ready and already “resting” and multiplying flavor, as you say.
– Aha.
– Really.
– Aha.
By the third “aha”, Buryana should have guessed what was waiting for her.
Half an hour later the kitchen looked like a battle station – the appliances were working in sync, the spices were arranged by height, and the white refrigerator had turned into a throne of maternal logistics. Buryana was sitting with her laptop on the sofa, fighting a deadline and a tiredness that reached all the way to her bones.
– By the way – her mother called out – Bobo has been on the screen all day again. A screen will grow instead of his face. He acts independent, but he lives in the digital refrigerator.
– Stop calling him Bobo. How does your heart allow you to replace such a beautiful name as Konstantin with some bean-shaped growth! He says nothing to you, but then my head swells from his grumbling that every self-respecting person would shoot himself because of that Bobo! His father also gets a rash when he hears it, but I still take the blow, because everyone loves and keeps silent before your grace – the Snow Queen.
– Do not take it out on me! That one of yours, with the royal name – former husband for you, but father forever – is he writing to you again?
– Simeon?
– Who else? The specialist in disappearances, with the philosophical messages at three in the morning.
– Oh, God…
And there it was. Her hand convulsively tightened on the touchpad. Blood was pounding with a heavy hammer in her temples. The muscles of her face and neck tightened; she had not felt them like that for a year, and her shoulders stiffened. She knew her – her mother. But her words were like a knife, scraping the old, cracked crust carefully protecting a living burning wound.
“Bobo.
Simeon.
I have not finished raising you yet, so I will show you how it is done.”
Anger, ashamed helplessness, pain – emotions that she had either shoved very far down under the carpet of “I have control”, or she had not encountered an irritant that would lift the valve, or she had reduced them. And now – with one remark about her child and one innocent “expert in disappearances” – the “shadow” crawled out like a genie from a bottle. In fact, the volcano gathered power and lava from the fact that she was irritated by her manipulation. She wanted to sting her with comments about Simeon, while in fact the two of them got along wonderfully and she could not “get over” him as a former son-in-law.
She stood up slowly and, it seemed, calmly. To be or not to be?! The powerful indignation was breaking every dam and barrier she had built inside herself to cover up the Shadow.
She went into the kitchen.
– Mom… – she was surprised by how gentle her voice was. Almost. – Tell me, what exactly is wrong with me this time?
– Well, I am not speaking to you like that. I am simply saying what I see.
– No, Mom, you are not saying what you see. You are saying what frightens you and making me wear your fears like an apron I did not choose.
– That is not true…
– It is true. You tell me how to look after my child, my man, my work, myself.
– Oh, but you know I want the best for you!
– Yes. I know. Only your best is beginning to smell like suffocation. That “good” has tightened around my throat like a noose.
– Well, that is something, I had not heard only this! So I am a bad mother?!
– No. You are not bad, Mom, but you live in your Rescuer spacesuit. And the Rescuer often eats the Victim with good intentions and a pinch of coriander.
Her mother fell silent. Incredible, one of the few times in these 37 years!
In her eyes appeared …no, it was not anger, but pain and her own shadow.
As if she were saying: I do not know how to love in another way, and if I stop, I will disappear.
Buryana looked at her and her breath trembled. The familiar sense of justice
– I am sorry I raised my voice. I just want to be loved without instructions. I want to be loved as a woman who is allowed to make mistakes.
– All right… – her mother murmured. – But at least put more mint in the salad. Men always think mint means care.
Buryana laughed.
– I also thought tartlets meant love. But now I wonder whether they do not mean control.
– No, dear – they mean work.
– That is why I love you. You are the most aromatic anxiety in my life.
The two of them laughed, and for the first time in years cooking “with four hands” was like a quiet duet, in which every note knew its place. Like in an American Christmas movie – without supervision and without a plan. Just mother and daughter between quinoa and forgiveness.
Sometimes the Rescuer shows you your Shadow and it hurts. But it also heals – if you allow yourself to see it. Love without boundaries is a rope around the neck. It is beautiful, but if it has no boundaries, it becomes like your grandmother ladling soup for you.
You: “That is enough, Grandma.”
She: “Eat, you are too skinny.”
You: “Grandma, the plate is overflowing.”
She: “It is overflowing with love, sweetheart.”
And then you wonder why you cannot take a breath – well, because under the spoonfuls of soup there is already a pillow, and a blanket, and five pieces of advice “for your own good”.
Love without boundaries is like a cat that decides to sleep on your face. It is warm, sweet, loving. But if you do not move it in time, the air stops.
In short – it is wonderful, as long as it does not take up all your space.
“Quest to Self” – Q2S is an author’s method for inner transformation. This is not about an “artistic path”, but about a system with a clear structure, verifiable steps and practical actions that lead to lasting change, not temporary inspiration. Through Q2S, a person releases blocked energy and accumulated inner reactions in the subconscious, restores their nervous system and begins to create their reality consciously. If this touches you, you can see how the process works in the section “Quest to Self – Q2