It's Good to Have Today

A response to grief

The morning sun teases open the skyline and I’m into minute two of my Tabata sit ups when there is a tiny knock at the door. My six year old son races in with his bedhead and Spiderman pajamas, and tears down his face, sobbing.

He’s had a sad dream. He tells me between sobs that I have died, frozen in fact. I am holding him and telling him that I am still here, I am still here.

My mind can’t help but fly to my dead friend; her own children are living that nightmare, and no mother is on the other side of the bedroom door anymore.