Fatigue

    The cold sunlight crept in through the bay windows of my bedroom.  It’s too early.  I wasn’t in the mood for the day to start.  Closing my eyes, I tried to reenter the sweet reverie from which I’d been rudely torn minutes ago.  Sleep didn’t return.  Rolling over to my right, I saw my wife and son nestled together.  He had had trouble sleeping ever since he started Kindergarten a few weeks ago.  I guess he didn’t like being away from mommy and daddy. 
    Slowly, I got up and threw on my bathrobe.  Jack stirred when I opened the bedroom door. 
    “Daddy?”
    “Shhh.”  I said, putting a finger to my lips.  “Don’t wake mommy.  Come on.  Let’s get you ready for school.”
    His shoulders  slumped.  “I don’t like school, Daddy,” he said.  “I want to stay with you.”  I knew he’d start to cry soon.
    “Don’t worry, Kiddo,” I reassured him.  “Even when you’re at school; even when you feel all alone, remember that I’ll be watching you.  Always.” 
    “I love you, Daddy,” he said, putting his arms around my waist.
    “I love you too, sport.” 

    The alarm clock sounded it’s harsh, robotic whine, startling me awake.  Jack was gone.  I rolled to my right and saw that my wife wasn’t there.  It took me a minute to remember that she wasn’t supposed to be.  I put my robe on for what seemed like the second time this morning and opened the bedroom door.  The house was quieter than I remember. 
    After padding across the hallway, I opened Jack’s door and stared at his empty bed for a moment. 
    All I wanted to do was to go back to sleep. 

A.C. Forrester
280 Words