Tag: david

Did yesterday really happen or was it a nightmare?

The morning after he blindsided me with his divorce filing, I woke with my son, Samuel, nestled in my arms, my heart heavy with confusion, unsure if the previous night’s devastation was real or a cruel nightmare. As I carried him from our bedroom to his bathroom to prepare for school, the house felt eerily empty. He was gone—already left for work, a rarity before 7:00 a.m. Swallowing my pain, I focused on Samuel, getting him ready and buckling him into the car for school. I kissed his forehead, told him I loved him, and wished him a great day, never letting a hint of the previous night’s heartbreak slip into my words. After dropping him off, I drove to Heather’s house, my chest tight with grief.

Heather greeted me with a warm, enveloping hug, but I could see the worry etched in her eyes, mirroring my own. She’d spent the night and morning tirelessly reaching out to friends who’d navigated divorces or worked in the school system, gathering advice and support. Guilt washed over me for burdening her, yet her presence was a lifeline. Over the phone, I poured out my need to escape with Samuel, to process this shattering news. With no family in Georgia, I longed for the comfort of loved ones. Easter was a week away, and I needed the embrace of those who knew me best. As more of Heather’s friends arrived, we called my sister, Charlene in New York. Without hesitation, she and her husband offered to buy roundtrip airfare for Samuel and me—a nine-day refuge to heal.

Heather sprang into action, packing a carry-on with snacks for Samuel and me, her care a quiet balm to my aching heart. My sister emailed the flight itinerary; we were leaving that afternoon. I reached out to Samuel’s teachers, explaining our family’s sudden fracture and our need to be with family out of state. His teacher, Ms. Farmer, reassured me that Samuel’s advanced standing meant no academic worries, but I insisted on homework to keep his mind engaged—school was my anchor, too. She promised a packet by pickup time.

At school, Ms. Farmer met me with a hug that nearly unraveled me. I explained we’d return in nine days, carefully planned to avoid state scrutiny, as I’d learned missing ten or more school days could trigger intervention. She nodded, sending a follow-up email to me and the school administrators, ensuring everyone was informed. When Samuel bounded down the hallway, surprised by the early pickup, he threw his arms around me in a tight, joyful hug. As we walked hand-in-hand to the car, he asked, “Where are we going?” I smiled through my pain, saying, “Guess where?” His eyes lit up. “To see my cousins?” he guessed, and I exclaimed, “Yes! How did you know?” In his car seat, Samuel wiggled in a gleeful dance, shouting, “Yes!” and beaming, “Mom, you always have the best surprises!”

His joy pierced my heart. Beneath my smile, I was crumbling, uncertain of what lay ahead for us. Yet I knew, with unshakable certainty, that we both needed to be surrounded by love, enveloped by family who would lift us up in this storm. This trip wasn’t just an escape—it was a lifeline to hope, for Samuel and for me. This decision, though legally permissible, would be used against me in court by Mitchell as a form of punishment.