My son went to school today in tears.
The snuffling, I Can’t Breathe kind of tears that wear a person out.
I can’t find his shirt. This is the reason my son can’t breathe.
I have torn this house apart. I have looked at every scrap of fabric that could maybe be his choir shirt. I’m exhausted from the search. The house is a mess. That shirt is simply not here.
He is singing at City Hall today, and I can’t find his shirt.
I have called all the people he’s seen in the last month – grandparents, uncles, etc. No shirt. I have looked in every closet, every laundry basket, every pile of clothing stashed behind the bed so Mom doesn’t see it. I have pulled out the ‘one day I’ll actually take this box to Goodwill’ box. No shirt.
He has no choir shirt. And he has three choir performances this week. I feel sick.
I called his teacher, and she has an extra that he can wear today. Disaster staved off one more day. She gets to be the one to tell him his life isn’t over (he’s 12, see, so finding a shirt for him means new life). But we have two more to go.
Where the HELL is that shirt!