Sitting at my kitchen island, dressed in sweats (per my usual COVID19 work-from-home attire), drinking coffee, practicing snap words with my kindergartner and helping my second grade son with his phonics lesson, urgent text messages started to fly in: “The Gov cancelled school for the rest of the year!
I’m actually crying.” “Holy hell. Here we go. Not surprising, but god it hurts.” “I don’t know how I am going to survive the summer.
I may have to take a leave of absence from work.” Then I received the robocall and texts from the school telling me what I already knew.
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