My husband had just left for a business trip when my six-year-old daughter said to me, “Mommy… we have to run. Now.” I asked, “What? Why?” She was trembling when she said, “We don’t have time. We have to leave the house right now.” I grabbed our bags and reached for the door—and that’s when it happened.
This wasn’t the playful kind of whisper kids use during games. It was tight with fear—too heavy, too urgent for someone her age.
I stood at the kitchen sink washing breakfast dishes. The air still carried the scent of coffee and lemon cleaner, the smell I always used when I wanted to feel like everything was under control. Thirty minutes earlier, Derek had kissed my forehead at the door, his suitcase rolling behind him as he promised he’d be back Sunday night.
He’d looked… happy. Continue reading…
