I had no plan other than taking care of the family. Since my wife, an art teacher, had to go to school, she would only make breakfast. And, then, I would take over. I would make lunch, pack it and drop it at her school. I would also clean the house, massage the baby and feed him. Later in the afternoon, she would come, make tea, and feed the baby. I would bring milk and groceries, if needed, and cook dinner. I would put the baby to sleep — it was a responsibility I took upon myself as I couldn’t wake up in the night to feed him.
After putting the newborn and the mother to sleep, I would do the dishes, listening to some music, hoping to soothe myself. Sometimes, I called my friends in India. Because of the different time zones, some had time to talk to me, others didn’t — I would call them invariably at nighttime and they would be busy at work. To beat the creeping ennui, I would spend time on social media and on endless streaming channels, but there was no peace. In the night, I would notice the first snowflakes falling outside. Through the window, I would see teenagers skating in the wee hours, the sound of their rollers breaking the silence. If someone would fall, they would burst into a boisterous laugh.