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. I’ve done it 100x before. But this time I’m wearing my sweats, seemingly the first time since.

Then, as in February when my new 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.

Immediately I knew what had happened. I instantly understood. But still I grabbed it and pressed the button… only to see the face of death.

But still I sat, trying to un-swipe the phone to no avail. It’s dead.

Oh well. Let’s go home.

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