Memorable

Monday Morning. May 15, 2006.

A dreary, rain-pounding day. I wore pin-striped black slacks, a dark knit top, scuffed leather boots, and a yellow raincoat. I kissed my husband and baby. The baby smelled like summer.
I got in the car. I drove over the green hill to campus.

I stepped in a puddle getting out of the car.

I knocked on the door. I shook a colleague’s hand.

Then I quit my job.

When I emerged from the building, the rain had stopped.

I drove home. Entering the house, I heard my baby squeal. She laughed and bounced on her dad’s knee at the top of the stairs just as she did every time I came home from work last semester.

Mama’s home.