“Da, I had the best dream! It was me and you and Saylor and Aiden and we were running and laughing! It was the best dream!”
Her broad smile flashes through pillow skewed hair blanketing her face before she breaks into a yawn.
It’s a few minutes before 6 a.m. and I’m smiling from the side of her bed in the glow of the multicolored dancing nightlights.
“Can I skip school today?” she asks, head collapsing back into her pillow. “Mom said I can.”
Our daughter has been a pre-school student for almost 3 months and is already skipping.
“She gets it honestly,” I laugh to myself remembering all the wonderful times I had regularly ditching academic expectations.
“No,” I firmly tell her. “School today! Here’s your uniform. What would you like for breakfast?”
School has restored some semblance of, I’m not certain of the right word, respite, from the constant interruptions and demands of raising a child in this pandemic saddled world.
Sarah needs the time to sit without everyone needing something at the same time when she’s already behind on her carefully planned day.
I need it because, well, I’m tired.
Don’t get me wrong, Sarah’s tired too. We’re exhausted. There’s never a break and time alone’s simply cannibalized by unrelenting demands or dark thoughts.
Cass, the self isolated 14 year old, gets herself up and off to Savannah Arts Academy independently only making lots of noise and a mess.
Che and I go through the motions of a regular school morning.
Sarah floats in for coffee.
“Can I skip school Mom?”
As I’m explaining that it’s not an option, I hear Sarah spell that she’s “F-I-N-E” with it and I shut up.
Che stops talking too, looking expectantly at me.
Sarah’s eyes meet mine and we acknowledge knowing the same thing without using words.
Our little girl just needs some time with Mom and Dad today.
“Sure,” I concede, not disappointed at all.
Sometimes, you just have to stop and give everything you have to what you love most and today Che just wants Mommy and Daddy!
So we’re skipping!
It’s working out okay for me.
I’m high, laying on the sofa with Che watching “A Babysitter’s Guide to Monster Hunting,” drinking Yoo-hoo and eating the magic marshmallows in “Lucky Charms.”
It’s not a bad way to have stage 4, pancreatic cancer.
