routine.
the first day back from winter break and we have already fallen back into routine: grudging acceptance of the workload, teasing bickering, the long walk home from class. i have to skip to catch up every couple of steps, because his legs are so much longer.
“i love this backpack,” he says, “i can pretend it’s a jet pack, fly away.”
i laugh but don’t say anything, a child more than anything, my red hat flopping because i’ve fallen behind, again.
