bare tree bw 522

The sounds of the children running about the house have vanished as my children have gone to their other home. They will return to my place a week from today to resume their abnormal life which is filled with more upheaval than any child should have to bear at such an age, or any age for that matter.

As morning arrived today, after the illnesses of the night, all three children wished to go to school despite the ill feelings. Field Day meant fun and a time to spend outdoors playing games. However, Cinnamon's fever spiked to around 102F(39C) at which point I received a phone call from the school nurse.

Since the children's father was closer to school than I was, I had nurse Barbara call him to pick up his daughter. The day went on with no more phone calls about the other two getting sent home. When it came time to pick up the two children, I sat in line outside school and wondered when Saffron would arrive.

There was no Saffron, as a boy informed me he saw her board the bus to take her to her father's house. I wondered why she would do this. In the meantime, her father decided to go get a few things done and took the sick daughter with him. Therefore, he was not home to wait for his older daughter. I arrived at his place to notice the bus waiting at his bus stop.

For some reason, Saffron thought I told her to take the bus to her father's house. After a few minutes, her father showed up and all three children said goodbye to me until next week although I did not leave immediately. I had to wait for their father to look for my boxes which were buried somewhere in the mess of the garage.

The wait was long as I initially thought a pile of my stuff was being accumulated for me to simply grab and go. This was not the case and I was getting impatient, wanting to go home and start my three-day weekend. I am certain there will be more things of mine discovered during the garage cleaning this weekend. Seeing how my minivan could hold no more boxes, I decided it was time to go.

The children held on tightly as they said goodbye. I hugged them and kissed them, letting them know I would see them in a week. Seven days is long for a mother to wait, but even longer for a child. Such is the life of a family torn apart by divorce. Nothing is or will ever be the same again but new experiences might help alleviate this upheaval, even if in a small way.