“Hi Jane” I choke out, the tears clogging my throat and getting stuck somewhere in my mangled greeting.
“Are you okay? No, I know you’re not okay, I’ll be right there.”
Gratitude wells within. Grateful for someone cheery who talks a lot and doesn’t need me to fill in the yawning gaps. My life is full of yawning gaps. Everywhere I step, the ground is thin, fragile like a crust of ice on snow that’s frozen overnight. Looks are deceiving. Looks don’t mean anything.
“I’m coming to get your kids- I’ll be there in five minutes.”
My eyes sting from the running make-up, and I swipe at them angrily with the back of wrist. Setting the phone down near the pile of dishes on the counter, I go in search of the boots and coats and gloves for the kids. They won’t be where they’re supposed to be. They never are.