Not Today

Morning broke, like it did yesterday, and the day before and more than likely will tomorrow. Only today the sun refuses to shine, instead it hides behind a veil of dark clouds. Last nights rain poured forth from the bloated belly of grey nimbostratus clouds, drops of water bounced off the roof with a staccato beat all night long The rain now patters gently with the last of the cloud dew.

Robert lay in bed, eyes closed, listening to the sound of a constant drip just outside his bedroom window. Wishing to remain within this confined comfort, dreaming about earlier times when this bed was warm. He gives an involuntary shiver, realizing the north pacific winter is on the way, and all it brings will be months of an atmospheric river pouring from overcast skies. The gutters are full of dead and rotting leaves and will need to be cleaned soon.

But not today.

His eyes reluctantly open, and as every morning for the past nine days the first sight he focusses on is the empty space beside him, the pillow still has a slight depression where her head once lay. The sheets untouched since her departure. He will need to clean them as well.

But not today

Rolling up to a sitting position, head down, his eyes remained focused on the dark suit crumpled in the corner, tossed there two nights ago. He couldn't wait to take it off, all day long it felt tight, unrelentingly squeezing what little life he had left out of him. He would need to have it dry cleaned and hang it back up, hopefully never having to wear it again.

But not today.

In a daze, his body goes on automatic, as he walks into the washroom and prepares to get ready for another day, there were obligations that could no longer be ignored or put off. The children need to return to school, and he has work to return too.

The shave and shower make him feel somewhat normal again, as he dresses his head begins to clear, a fog lifts from his muddled mind. He listens to soft voices coming from the kitchen, his children. He smiles when he hears the gentle voice of Emily, helping her two siblings get ready. Her role changed, from a fifteen-year-old schoolgirl to a care giver. She took on the role herself, for that he is grateful, but she needs to be a teenager not a mother. One day perhaps, many years from now she may have that responsibility.

But not today.

The children go quiet as he enters the kitchen, in moments they jump up and surrounded him with hugs. The embrace gave him strength, while the room becomes quiet, it felt full and empty at the same time. Slowly they separate as Emily reminds everyone it is time to go. Grabbing backpacks and their lunches, Emily even packed a lunch for him, they go out to begin a new day.

Settling into the car, Robert stares into the rearview mirror and watches his two youngest put on their seatbelts and false smiles for the world to see. Glancing at his eldest, pride fills his heart as she too forces a smile upon her youthful face.

As they pull out of the driveway he says. "Hey, who wants ice cream."

Emily's mature and responsible voice speaks up. "Dad, it's eight in the morning."

The twins however, squeal with delight.

Robert grins. "I'm thinking, no school or work today. Today the four of us are going to have some fun, and I think ice cream is a good start."

Glancing around he watches their faces light up with genuine joy, releasing the tension that has been trapped inside. He knew they would do what ever was expected of them. If he drove them to school they would go, and should he continue on his way to work, they would understand. After all there were bills to pay, lessons to learn and roles to portray, pretending everything was back to normal.

But not today.

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Thank you,

Jason

Written for L.C. Shafer October Challenge: