That’s what I do on days like today when my son comes home from school without his little notebook.
Now, this is not just any old notebook, like the many that are used in school for math and science or even art.
This notebook is the key to unlock my window that allows me to take a little peek into the day that he had.
This is what I do all the time. Even when that precious notebook does make it’s way into his backpack, I grasp it with both hands as quickly as I can.
I eagerly flip through the pages until the last entry and my eyes try read faster than they are able.
Scribbles written on the page, handwriting that is difficult to read…
“Was a little frustrated today at physical Therapy, didn’t seem to want his snack. Played outside. Fun on swing. Needs more diapers, please send.”
The tears fill my eyes as I stand there at the ’empty’ page.
This is all that happened in his day?
That is all, that is left, for me to do.
Imagine how he looked going on the swing… Imagine how he smiled and laughed at circle time. Imagine how he worked at his tasks at occupational therapy…
What would happen if I didn’t have such a good imagination?
I am only a mother.
A mother who eagerly awaits his school bus to arrive.
A mother who sits with him each day and asks the same questions…
Questions that have no answers.
Then he slides down from the couch and finds something to do…
I am left to imagine.
I imagine that one day very soon, he will come running off his bus.
I imagine that he will bounce right into our home and sit down on the couch snuggled up next to me.
I imagine that he will fill my imagination with wonderful words of how his day was.