“Mrs. Thomas, we just wanted to call and let you know that Brady has gotten injured on the playground,” before the school director could finish her sentence I hung up and started getting my two year old dressed and tennis shoes on. In Charleston, SC the temperature must have been at least 100 degrees but it did not matter, my son needed me and I was bound and determined to be there.
His pre-school was conveniently only a mile away but in this heat it felt like twenty. I can barely breathe. As much as I want to sprint up there, I can’t. I just have to walk as fast as I can and pray the whole way that he is okay and knows I am on my way. I had no time to grab water or sunscreen for that matter.
“Please God let Brady be okay. Please let somebody see the stress on my face and pick me up and take me to my son faster. Keep me from having a seizure in this heat with exhaustion and my current stress level. Amen.”
Of course no one stops. They all think I am walking for my health. I wish I could wear a sign. I am almost there I can see his school and my anxiety level drops from level 10 to 2. Thank you.
I go into Brady’s classroom and just hold him. He has a cut down his left eye. Some little boy pushed him into the fence but Brady is okay. That is all I care about. Let’s just walk home, slowly, we are not in a race-- anymore.