We are back at swimming lessons for one more week. My son sits with me first while his sister starts her lesson. My son is restless.
“Why can’t I go first like I did last time?!”
I open my thermos to pour myself some tea and realize I didn’t add milk. Goddammit. I screw the top back on.
It is a relief when it is my son’s turn (“How much longer?” he has asked repeatedly). My daughter settles into her Ipod.
We leave a half hour later as grey clouds roll in. There is a thunderstorm in the forecast and I just want to get home in time. I hate driving in hard rain, prefer the comfort of home. We stop at a friend’s house to drop something off, chat, get home and as I pull into the driveway, my daughter asks:
“Where’s my Ipod?”
She thinks I have it, I say I don’t, she searches frantically.
The clouds are above us and dark grey. My plan of getting home just in time dissipates.
My daughter had been struggling with many things as we made our way to the car. Maybe she dropped it. Maybe somebody found it and turned it in. I call the pool. The Ipod is there.
We are going again the next day. I should say: “We’ll get it tomorrow.” But I look at my daughter’s eyes and she looks at me and I say:
“Let’s go get it now.”
Still, amazingly, I make it back before the storm. I dump the contents of the thermos and make myself a new tea when we get inside, safe.Print