The doorbell rings.
We're not expecting company. Whoever it is can go away.
Besides, I'm in the bathroom.
But it's 8:30 in the morning. And it's Sunday.
I think it must be a solicitor. Or better yet a Jehova's Witness.
Now I start to get annoyed. Who the hell would think it's ok to ring someone's doorbell at 8:30 on a Sunday morning. Surely Jehova liked his sleep too! And isn't Sunday supposed to be a day of rest?
I rush to the front door to give whoever-it-is a piece of my mind.
Noone there. I scan the street looking for the culprit.
Now I hear a knocking on our glass door.
The sliding glass door off our kitchen. At the BACK.OF.THE.HOUSE.
I run to the kitchen and see Her standing on the other side.
Tears streaming down her face.
She is begging her Brother to open the door and let her in.
The Boy is apparently too busy with his Cheerios to honor her request.
I am confused by what I am seeing.
Cinderella is outside our home. On a Sunday. And she is wearing her backpack.
I wonder why she is wearing her backpack. Where is she going.
Are things between us worse than I thought?
Have I driven her so far away that she had decided to run away and thankfully-for-us the extreme cold and her lack of a final destination has sent her back home to us?
I rush to open the door.
She is looking up at me. Shivering. Tears streaming down her face.
I'm so cold. I can't feel my toes.
What are you DOING?
I thought today was Monday.
She had been outside for the last 30 minutes outside waiting for her school bus.
Today class we are going to learn how to read a calendar.