The child was screaming and screaming just outside my office door. "Mommy!Mommy!"
I went out to see what was going on and there was a tiny little boy sitting there, crying his eyes out.
A woman who'd been sitting at a table in the children's room with another woman told me his mom had gone to the bathroom. Apparently she was fine with watching the child, but wasn't going to do a damned thing about him.
I haven't intervened with patron behavior in months. But I am always a mom and I couldn't bear to see that little one crying.
I scooped him up and held him on my hip. I talked to him, I tried to distract him, I sang to him a little and I waited until his mom came back from the bathroom and he went into her arms, burying his face in her neck.
And I came in the back and cried.
Because like him, I miss my mother. I want my mother.
Only she'll never come back to me.
She died, nearly 3 weeks ago.
And I have not been able to bear writing about it here..................