“Do you think we’ll go back to school this year?”
He’s asked a few times. I’ve answered the same way I respond to requests to play LEGOs, watching him play video games, or let him have soda with dinner.
He knows what “we’ll see” means.
It’s a no without saying no.
It’s a shitty answer.
I’m done lying to the kid.
“No, I don’t think you’ll go back. I think school is over for the year.”
His expression changes to shear disappointment.
He had hope.
I should have let him hang onto the feeling a little while longer.
He’s sitting on a bike going nowhere, staring at his sister doing figure eights in an empty parking lot on a two-wheeler she learned to ride in one day.
He’s disappointed for several reasons. They’re all personal and not one I’m open to discussing in a public forum.
I’ll only share that the next school year will bring significant changes.
He wasn’t ready to let go of this year yet.
He didn’t get to say goodbye to a teacher he loves and new friends he’s made.
The absence of daily traffic makes the ordinarily busy side street even quieter.
“I could be wrong.”
That’s not a lie.
I could be wrong.
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