After lunch, I called my husband, Mark, to check and make sure our son, Leo, had eaten. Instead of answering right away, he went quiet, and in the background, I heard my son crying.
My heart started pounding. “Mark, what happened?”
“Elle, Leo… he fell,” he said. “From the swing.”
In the background, I heard my son crying.
Leo had stayed home that day because Mark took off work and promised him a fun father-son day in the backyard. Our son had been so excited that morning he put his shoes on by himself and asked twice whether they could do the swing first.
I ended the call, grabbed my keys, and drove straight home. When I got there, Leo was sitting on the couch with a bowl of crackers in his lap. His cheeks were streaked with dried tears.
Usually he came running when I walked in. That day, Leo barely looked up.