Yesterday

Was your first day of grade three.

We got there late and I helped you pick the last seat in the row so that you weren’t behind Alice. I knew that you two would push each other’s buttons.

Four hours later I got a phone call. You had a collision with Bobby (a huge eighth grader) and you hit the pavement with your face and head. It was pouring rain. Dad and I ran out to the car and drove to the school to get you. I held you and held you as you cried and cried, your poor face was messy with blood and your forehead had a huge purple welt on it. I packed your bag while Dad held you and we took you home and I tucked you into our bed. As soon as i cleaned your face you ran to the washroom, crying because you didn’t want to throw up and I calmed you as best as I could, telling you it was ok, to just go ahead and throw up and you did and there was so much blood, so much mucus and all of your lunch. Dad took over and I called the doctor and we took you to emergency.

You had a concussion.

I felt nothing. No, not nothing. I guess I felt numb. She checked you out, told us to watch you and we took you home. You had soup and crackers and crashed for ten hours. I was so tired. I fell asleep at 9:30. Today I kept you home, just in case.

It never occured to me that you could have brain damage. Or that you could be severely hurt. Does that make sense? It just wasn’t a possibility. I knew you’d be fine.

I’m so tired today.

Your dad and I had a huge fight Saturday night. I wanted him to stay home. He had to work. But he stayed home on Sunday and we got things done. And then on Monday he told me he was resentful that he had to work two jobs. That I would have to go get a job.

I contemplated teaching French at your school. It was part-time but it’s from 8:30-1:30. I know the hours would be longer. I thought about doing banking. I thought about the government.

I don’t want to work. I like my quiet life. I like being here for the both of you. does that mean I’m lazy?

I think we decided we would try me helping Dad during some jobs. He’d charge more and I’d help a few times a month. I keep praying the book will be enough. The book will be enough. But I have to finish it, don’t I?

I haven’t cried yet.

I feel guilt from Dad working two jobs. I feel guilt for your poor injury. I feel guilt because my best friend wants to divorce her husband and can’t decide and I agree with her.

Despite it all. God is here. He is the great I AM. And He’s here and He’s watching over you, keeping you safe with His angels and He’s watching over me and Dad. He’s guiding us and we will trust Him. Because we love Him.

love you baby.

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