An Hour In a Day
I gently nudged her towards the door, her preschool teacher taking her hand and propelling her forward even more. I backed away slowly with words of reassurance for both of us. Her teacher smiled and pulled her in, tears streamed down her face and her shoulders shook with each sob.
I turned and walked to the car with a heavy sigh. Dropping children off for school is supposed be easy by the end of the school year, not harder. It wasn’t the first time I left her crying, but each and every time, she came home beaming. So I told myself that today was no different, that she would have fun and come home happy.
The short trip to the grocery store was easy and uneventful. The bonus of having an older child out of school is the built-in babysitter aspect. I have almost forgotten how easy it is to shop alone. But throughout the quiet of my shopping trip, I couldn’t shake the feelings and worries about my sweet daughter.
As I got in the car to take my groceries home, the phone rang. My husband was just calling to see how my day was going.
“It was so hard to leave her today.”
“I’m sorry. You know she always has fun.”
“I know. I just hate leaving her when she is so sad.”
Our quick conversation ended and the phone rang again almost instantly. I turned into our street only to be greeted by my daughter’s teacher on the other end of the phone.
“She just won’t settle down. I’m not sure what you want to do.”
“I will come get her. I need to drop some groceries at the house, but then I will be there just as quickly as I can.”
I ditched the groceries and returned to school. I could see her through the small window in the door. She was standing with the other children barely singing, her little shoulders shuttered with each breath as she tried to be brave and stop crying. I thought she saw me, but she didn’t acknowledge me. I tapped on the door and beckoned her to come. The relief in her little body evident as she quickly gathered her backpack and stood next to me.
I took her small hand and led her to the car where I gathered her onto my lap and asked what the problem was.
“We had to sing with more kids and I don’t want to make new friends. And I don’t like that classroom.”
I squeezed her tight and brushed her tears away and reassured her that it was only for practicing the program. As we drove home, I listened again while she recounted her worries and my heart ached to take away her fears.
What is an hour out of your day like? Link up and share, whether through pictures, poetry, lists, or words and let us walk a mile in your shoes.