Two weeks from now, we’ll be lined up outside the school. When it’s our kids’ turns to go inside, I know they’ll skip gaily through the propped-up door, swinging a gift bag for their teacher and thrilled to be inside their school again. I’ll move to the designated exit door to wait for them, and I’ll try to stop crying before they come out. I’ll try to stop myself from agonizing over the next time we’ll be back and what school will look like at that point.
Five and a half months. That’s how long our kids will be out of school, assuming things re-start in September — and a September start is the one true, beautiful thing I refuse to stop believing in, so don’t burst my bubble.
All they want to do is go outside in the sun and play in the yard, but now they have to wonder if they’re going to see their mom crying because the police have called again?