The Third Day

The air is brisk, the sun warm. Under a short scraggly tree providing speckled sunlight, she sits at a brown metal picnic table at what she would describe as a community park. It has the feel of a neighborhood park since the open play area is not that big, but the sign says there is an aquatic center so the building must house the rest.

She takes a sip of her McDonald’s coke and looks up to see why a kid is crying, the mother tugging on his arm dragging him towards the play equipment.

Wow. She actually did it. It’s the third day of driving him to preschool, but she hadn’t left him alone there for more than an hour or so yet. Today, however, she dropped off her medically complex, special needs 3 year old at the Foundation for Blind Children and drove away…well, after an hour and 2 trips back and forth to the car because she forgot to tell them just one more thing. But then she finally started the car and backed out of the parking space.

The world has changed; its weight feels lighter. A few hours of freedom linger on the horizon within grasp while loving trained people are teaching and caring for her son. He was smiling when she left. He has the best smile.