Since Sofia was three.
In blistering heat, bone chilling cold, pouring down rain, blinding snow, sickness, health, with a newborn, with a toddler, with a newborn and a toddler, in long car lines, through heavy foot traffic, two different preschools, two different elementary schools, and a middle school.
Hours after being released from the hospital with a baby.
On my way to being admitted for emergency surgery.
More than 2,176 afternoons.
Covered in stress sweat from worrying I'd be late.
Covered in flour from working all day in the kitchen.
All done up for date night.
With not a stitch of makeup and sweats.
Without exception.
For more than nine years.
I have always been the first face the youngest sees when the school doors open. Always. Not until they were in three different schools did Sofia have to wait for me after school. Not until just this year did Eva have to walk to me instead of being greeted at her door. And, not until today will that streak be broken.
I'm the mama who gets to the school more than thirty minutes early to ensure I get to be the smile that welcomes the end of the girls' school day. And, everyone has always teased me so much over it. "I'm just anal," I have always replied. I am, but that's not the real reason I take my place at the front of the school pickup line. Here's the truth: in my whole childhood, I can't remember a single time I was sure my mother would get me when she was supposed to. I can't count the number of times she forgot me at daycare. I was always the kid left with the one tired teacher who just wanted to go home but couldn't because my ride wasn't there. And, by the time I was seven, I was going home to an empty house. Sometimes my mother would get there before I went to bed, but most of the time she went to the bar instead. I've never had anyone I could count on to show up. So, being the first person my girls see when the doors open is my tiny way of trying to show them that they can depend on me. That they can be secure knowing mama is there. Always.
Until I break that promise today.
Today, I start a job that takes me away from the school doors every afternoon. Today, when the bell rings, I won't be smiling at Maya's 1st grade door. When Eva rounds the corner, she won't see mama walking toward her. And, Sofia won't wait on the corner for my car. Today, I will let them down. Not for the first time, but definitely in a way none of us is ready for.
Eva and Maya cried when I told them. They worry about things I hadn't even considered. Who's going to make dinner? Do we have to do our homework without you? What about our snacks? Can we still play outside? Is it every day? And, I have cried every night since I accepted the job. My only role every afternoon since Sofia started preschool was to show up.
Today, I won't do that.
Today, they won't find me outside the doors.
Today, I won't hold their hands on the walk home.
Today, everything changes.
Today, I let them down.
Today, I won't show up.
I never wanted to be my mother. Today, I take a step in that direction.
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