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Show 77 "Hey," Lisa smiles at my family. She knows them well by now. "Who would like some ice cream after that long drive up?" Five hands are raised and she leaves the room with this happy errand. Hy is just as much a child regarding ice cream as the actual four. "How's it going?" he asks me as the two youngest climb onto the bed and into my arms. The other two slide together into the one chair, vying for comfort in its plastic hardness. Hy is looking sharply into my eyes and understands that all is not well. But we know we must protect the children somehow and we both screw on good faces for them. "Mommy," my youngest is saying, looking up into my eyes, "when are you coming home?" She is five. I want to cry out loud at her pleading. Six weeks is an eternity in her short life. "I miss you!" she implores. How many parent-teacher conferences have I missed? How many times during a school program did one of these children look to the audience for support, forgetting in that instant that I would not be there? When will we ever go camping again as a family, bonding with the wilderness and each other? |
