Bella Sunshine-Caldwell finished stacking her daughter’s lunch box, water bottle, and folder into her Fancy Nancy backpack and gave one final time check. Thank God. She despised lateness and usually did well with her organization skills, but the winter months were difficult to get both of them out of bed. Something about the lazy darkness and biting cold made her want to snuggle back under the blankets and beg for five more minutes. She’d even missed her normal morning run, sacrificing exercise for sleep, and still found herself behind. What if they missed the bus? She’d have to drive Zoe to school, and she didn’t want to be late for her appointment.
“You look beautiful,” she said, barely glancing over. Where were her brown boots? How could she keep losing things in such a small space? She rummaged through the cramped closet, dragging one out of the pile of discarded shoes and pulling it on. “Let’s go, pumpkin. Coat on.”
It was the sound of Zoe skipping across the floor that alerted her to trouble. Bella did a few hops to work the tight leather over her calves—was she gaining more weight?—and finally studied her five-year-old daughter, who tugged on her bright-pink jacket.
“Hold it, young lady.” She snapped her tone into disciplinarian mode, shaking her head. “What do you think you’re wearing?”
“My pink dress. You said you liked it.” The defensiveness in her daughter’s squeaky voice pegged her guilt. She knew better, but chose to ignore the rules.
“Zoe, that’s a summer dress. It has no sleeves, and I packed it away. We agreed if it’s in your closet, you can wear it. And you are not allowed to wear white dress shoes in the winter.”
Stubbornness tilted her chin. “I found it on the bottom of my closet in a garbage bag with the shoes, so that counts. I want to look pretty today. We have show-and-tell, and Emma said she’s wearing a pink dress and we could be twins. This is the only pink dress I have.”
Bella reached up into the cloud and grasped for patience. Sometimes the cloud was full, like it had rained overnight and spilled out gifts like humor, positive attitudes, and flexibility. Other times, it was empty and dried up, and the only things it contained were frustration and PMS.
Bella prayed for the gifts.
“Our deal was for clothes hanging up in the closet,” she corrected. “It’s twenty degrees out, and you’ll get sick if you go out like that. Why don’t you wear your pink stretchy pants with the white sweater?”
Zoe’s lower lip trembled. “It has to be a dress! We pinkie promised—please, Mommy!”
Zoe rarely had tantrums. They were more like intense discussions, which allowed Bella to be reasonable when something seemed important. She mentally clicked through various options to solve the problem as quickly and painlessly as possible. “Okay, go put your long-sleeved white shirt on under the dress. I’ll get you some tights, and then you can wear those pink boots I just bought you.”
Zoe’s eyes widened. “You said they were for special ’casions.”
“Well, I declare show-and-tell a special occasion. But from now on, no more sneaking out summer dresses. They stay packed up. Deal?”
“Deal!”
“Good. You have to move fast or we’ll miss the bus.”
Zoe rushed back into her room, and Bella hurriedly ripped open a new package of pink tights. When they went on sale, she bought them by the bucketload. With deft motions, she helped re-dress her daughter, grabbed her stuff, and rushed out the door.
Stomping on the accelerator, she got to the end of the road as the bus was beginning to pull away. She honked, practically fell out the car door, and ran out, scissoring her arms wildly in the air. The bus screeched to a stop, and she caught the dirty look the bus driver shot her. “Thank you!” she yelled, giving Zoe a quick kiss and watching her cross the street to board. She waved as the bus pulled away and disappeared.
A sigh spilled from her lips. Just another day in the life of a single mom.
Oh, Matt, I wish you were here.
She listened for a sign like she always did—a whisper in the trees, a honk of a horn, a shiver of cold awareness—anything to feel that he’d heard her and was here, but there was nothing.
Rolling her eyes at her drama, she trudged back to the car and pumped up the heat. Her husband had been taken way too early, but it had been