There's a message on the machine when I return home. "Hi Sue this is Deb from transportation, because of a scheduling issue with another student, effective immediately Dermot's new drop off time will be twelve noon."
I paced in circles in my kitchen, I'm angry. I've planned my entire school year around this school drop off time, and they changed it. Just like that. I sit on my kitchen floor and cry. I cannot be two places at once. I guess Dermot doesn't get to ride the bus. I call Deb back and leave a voicemail. "Hello Deb, this is Sue Sullivan Dermot Sullivan's mother. I will pick up Dermot from school effective immediately." With each word it becomes more obvious that I'm crying through the message so I hang up.
It seems to be a trivial occurance or a minor irritation from the outside. I tried to tell myself that. But why was I moved to tears so quickly and so intensely? Am I finally losing it? Have I lost my composure for the last time? No. These are the times when I am again reminded that my life with Dermot as his mother is hard.
My life is hard. I won't tell you that when I see you because I don't think it's hard most of the time. I'm blessed in many ways. I help others so I don't focus on myself. I keep moving all day long so I don't stop and think. But when Deb called, she reminded me, it is.
There must have been a little angel helping me out that day last week because Deb called back, she had a solution, and Dermot still rides the bus. Thanks.