Uuuuch. I hate this. I hate the fact that Mommy is never home anymore
The house is strangely quiet when I enter, hot after the walk home from school. There’s no ballet today, due to studio repairs, and I’m feeling aimless and bored, despite my Herschel bag weighed down with homework and review notes. Kicking off my shoes, I dump the bag on a kitchen chair, untuck my uniform shirt, and start opening and closing cabinet doors, in search of the perfect snack.
I spy Mommy’s note just as I’m piling sandwich cookies onto a napkin.
Went to hospital to see Babby.
Lasagna in the fridge.
Love you.
Uuuuch. I hate this. I hate the fact that Mommy is never home anymore. Maybe I’m a terrible granddaughter, but I just really miss having someone to talk to when I get home from school. I feel a rush of guilt. Okay, no, I want Babby to have company. That hospital was horrible and cold, and I’m glad Mommy’s there with her. But how come Tanta Perel can’t fly in from Chicago? Or Uncle Baruch from L.A.? Why is Mommy the only one abandoning her family?
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