Gripping my son tight I wrap my arm under his shirt and around his back. He’s so warm. I squeeze him tight, kissing his 4 year old cheeks while laying him into the car seat. I kiss him again and send “I love you” to the car. I’m anticipating home. I m being pulled toward that door. I’m overworked. I’m Tired. But I’m happy. Get me home.

I enter my car swiftly, which means closing the door quickly at the same time I’m sitting down. As I’ve done 100x before. But this time I’m wearing my sweats, seemingly the first time since (because it’s cold).

Then, as in February when my new iPhone 6 fell to receive it’s first chips, my device dropped and found itself smashed between the door and the car at the perfect time. Receiving the mangled screen of death. Rendered useless.

I knew instantly what had happened. I understood immediately what this all meant. But still I opened the door and picked it up. I pressed the button and saw the pattern of death. Screen death. I sat there and tried to unswipe. But to no avail. I couldn’t unlock, only record audio in response to texts…

Oh well. Let’s go home.

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