We broke the news to the boys that I would be going back to work about three weeks ago. They were vaguely interested. They know I write stories sometimes, and am preoccupied. Perhaps they thought it would be like that. All out, then quiet again.
So on the second day, (a Friday) Theo said:
"Are you going to work again?"
"Yes," I said. "I am."
On the third day, (a Saturday) he asked again:
"Are you going to work today, too?"
"No," I said. "It's the weekend."
But I realized, for him, my work is a brief sprint, when I seem distracted and absent, and then, soon, it is over.
This will be different. I cannot even bear to tell him how different.
One day at a time.
1 year ago