I took a long deep
breath and held it in for a few seconds before slowly exhaling. I began looking
back on the morning. Just like a Kansas tornado, my mornings were a mixture of
chaos and noise spinning madly throughout the house with a lost shoe, a missing
backpack, a fight over a sweatshirt, and milk from a toppled cereal bowl
running off the counter and dripping to the floor. But then, at 7:45 with
kisses, hugs, and reassurances that they will live a full life even if their
brother wears their sweatshirt, they would spill out the door and down the
block toward school.
