Back

The older boys asked to go back to school yesterday.

“I just feel off,” my oldest says as he sinks into the peach chair in my writing room.

“How so? Do you feel sick?” Do you have Covid??

“I just, I don’t know.”

He crosses a leg, similar to my own, tucks it close to his body.

“Do you miss your friends?” I say.

“I just don’t understand why we can’t go back?” He says, “we don’t have any symptoms. It’s been days Mom.”

I sigh.

How will they remember this time in their lives? A pandemic that seems never ending. Masks. Obsessive hand washing. Six feet apart. And isolation.

I look at his slouched body. His hands clasped together and expanding – something to do. His eyes meet mine.

“I’ll check with your principal and look at the CDC protocols,” I say.

A glimmer flickers in his eyes. His body rises slightly.

“Really?” He says.

I nod. In my head I am praying. It’s a prayer many parents say.

“Please God, help me. Please, keep my sons safe. Please, make this the right thing.”

And today, I drop them off at school.