The Dreamed Moment

She has been waiting for it since early summer, and she didn't know she was waiting for it. Today, today is the day, the busy day, the day of nerves, the day to utter that phrase (a grandmother's phrase): "Did you oversleep?" Today they do have to eat breakfast, the free-for-all is over, no, they can't leave on an empty stomach. Something, a juice, half a glass of milk, they can't say they can't eat anything, because they have to use their brain, and the brain, as you know, needs sugar (nutritionists say so, she's not making it up).

Today is the day she will say "Come on, come on!" and today is the day she will put on her designer t-shirt and jeans ---informal, but dressed up--- because the holidays are over. "Come on, come on!", she says. She checks their backpacks. "House keys? The sandwich? Is the Chromebook charged? What? No? I can't believe it, you'll be the only one, the only one who doesn't have it charged, tell the tutor that... Don't give me that look, you forgot, I told you last night! The only thing you remember is combing your hair! What are you doing? No! You're not changing your t-shirt now! No, sir!".

They leave the house, go down to the parking lot in the elevator. Both, the son and the daughter, fight to see who will sit in the front. In the end, angry, she forces both to sit in the back. She opens the automatic door with the key and joins the city traffic. Now, now she will do it, when she arrives, right away. Right away she will hear the impatient horns, some shouting, some insults, right away she will see some "of course" faces. Right away the traffic warden will approach her to tell her to hurry up and she will smile at him. Right away, right away she will do it. Right away, finally, today she will be able, like everyone else, to double-park the SUV at the school gate.