The chaos of life was paused this morning.
An unexpected delight of watching my children, within the school playground, and unaware of my being there. A pre 9am meeting with teacher, allowing me to observe from a distance;
Them being them without me.
My son and his co-conspirator deep in conversation at a railing. His right hand picking away at an icicle, always the fidget. My daughter’s woolly hat, offset with running wild and now a tipsy tea cosy. She carries her satchel with the assuredness of the business woman she is. No one aware of its true contents; a pair of pants and a packet of hula hoops.
I watch the confidence in both of them.
Socialising without my leg to hide behind.
No need for my hand.
I want to go over and cover her ears from the cold. Tell him to get his hands out of his sleeves he is not an orangutan.
I resist as the bell rings, and they fall into line with their class mates. A quick look for each other and their lunch boxes. “I made that lunch box!” I want to shout. Tuna sandwiches. No crusts. One triangles, the other “long squares”.
Of course, they already know this. Contentedness shines out of them. The security of their sandwiches, and knowing how loved they are.
The cold air turning their breath into smoke signals, as they begin to file into school. The crisp winter morning framing the scene in white.
They are safe. Safe inside their snow globe.
I begin my retreat. To start my day, without them.