A Bright Spot

It's only Tuesday and my week already seems hectic. In preparation for the upcoming spring break I'm busy and rushed with tests to write and papers to grade. Tension headaches, an old acquaintance of mine from graduate school, have returned to have their way with me. And I'm tired. Always tired.

So I walked down to the Lower School to run an errand, and hoping for a glimpse of my sweet boy to help brighten my day. I didn't see the boy but I did run into the principal, Mrs. R, and she says, "Do you have a minute? I want to talk with you."

My heart sank. For years I've felt that I lead a charmed life but when Lisa departed the charm was broken. I no longer expect good news from any quarter. It's like I'm constantly bracing for the other shoe to drop. So I wondered: was there trouble with my boy? But no ---- she just wanted to tell me what a great kid he is, how bright and happy he is when she sees him in the hall, how polite he is to adults and classmates alike. "He's really come into his own this year," she tells me.

I had such low expectations of this year, our first as a duo instead of a trio. I feel like all I do is tread water, my head barely above the churning below me, always straining to do just a little better. I worry that my little boy feels the stress and sees my fears. I want for him to have a happy childhood, one filled with expectations of laughter and happiness, not with anxiety about his mama's heart.

And Mrs. R sees happiness in his dark shiny eyes so maybe, just maybe, I'm doing okay.