Time to play
The churning returns.
Relentlessly, my insides spin and blend themselves into the world's least impressive smoothie.
A heady mix of excitement and terror fuels the adrenalin as it forces its way around my body and forces my legs to move.
Slowly, carefully, I lace my shiny shoes and look around smugly for praise for achieving such a feat. The praise doesn't come as the house is in far too much chaos for anyone to notice such a trivial thing. Shame. I do a pretty damned impressive bow even if I do say so myself.
As I look through the jungle of the coat pegs for my coat I get told yet again to hurry up. It's not my fault that it is so hard to find though, why do we even have so many coats? Four people live in this house. Four. Yet on our pegs are enough jackets to keep Belgium protected from the rain.
Maybe I could have a drink first? I could do with some water and perhaps the toilet? No. Apparently there is no time. No time left at all.
Six weeks ago I had time.
Lots of it.
The promise of summer. The wonder of possibility. The beauty of having all the time in the world to share with the people whom you love.
People who don't usually have the time.
But now it has run out and I'm wearing stiff shoes once more.
The door opens and the cold morning air rushes in.
I take the hand that is offered to me and accept with relief the reassuring smile that goes with it. The eyes say it all. It's going to be okay.
The churning stops and I laugh as the burden of worry is lifted. As the door shuts so does the holiday and so does the uncertainty. I want to run on ahead and jump on the wall but the hand is holding me tight. I'm not entirely sure it is ready to let me go.
Not just yet.
So I'll keep hold of it for now.
After all, he is only eight and starting a new school year can be scary.
So I think I'll just keep on hold of him for now. Ten minutes more. That isn't too much to ask, is it?