Saturday, May 31, 2014  11:30 a.m.

“Mom?”

I snapped out of my reverie and looked up to see my youngest standing in my bedroom door.

“Hm? You need something? What time is it? You must be hungry.”

“No, I had cereal – I just wanted to know if you’re doing laundry today. I need jeans.”

I reached for my cell and was surprised to see the morning had flown by. My Kindle was in sleep mode. I must have spaced off after the show. I rubbed a hand tiredly over my face.

“Yes, of course. Give me a minute. Can you put your laundry by the front door and I’ll take it down? I just need another minute.”

She left the door standing open, and I could see my firstborn peeking in from down the hall. I smiled and called out a good morning, and she good-morninged me back and disappeared, apparently satisfied that I was fine.

Of course I was fine. Just tired. It was a long, cramped drive home yesterday. Anyone would be bone-weary tired after that. I sighed and looked around the room absently, running over the checklist in my head. I had forgotten to take my blood pressure medicine, so I washed it down with the cold dregs of my coffee, and got up to change into old clothes, my housecleaning day wear.

The girls had done a great job in the kitchen. I was afraid I’d come home to a sink full of dishes and piles of trash bags waiting to be taken out, but all was neat enough. There was leftover pizza in the fridge. A few days of junk food was to be expected. I added grocery-shopping to my list for the day, and then just froze, one hand on the closed door of the fridge, staring at the shopping list held up by a magnet, but not seeing it.

I couldn’t do it. I just knew, I could not leave the house that day. I couldn’t picture myself able to get into the car, much less drive it. I gripped the refrigerator door handle tighter, my nails digging into my skin. My heart starting pounding. My breath was shorter and quicker. I felt suddenly cold all over. I couldn’t do it. I almost wanted to whimper out loud, please don’t make me do it, but felt ridiculous in this unreasonable fear. What was wrong with me? It’s just grocery shopping.

I scolded myself into letting go of the door handle, but as I walked out of the kitchen, I turned back down the hall to my room instead of toward the laundry in the living room. I paused in my doorway, both hands on the frame, holding myself up. I called out to the girls that I was more tired than I thought, and would do laundry in a couple hours. I just need to nap a bit more.

I crawled into bed, shaking like a leaf, and eyes brimming over onto hot cheeks, pleading silently to the empty air – please don’t make me. Make me what? The walls slammed down on all sides, and I went limp, like a puppet with cut strings. My heart called for my sisters, and a welcome memory appeared of me and my sisters as adults all hugging each other and grieving together, one big huddle of sisters. Breathing easier, I fell asleep.