Parking is a bitch, but once I open that gate, I start to get revved for the next couple minutes. Walk through, towards the door, up the stairs. the stairs curve; at the curve is when it hits me – the enormity of what is about to happen. I hear her voice mingled with other tiny voices; they’re all soaked with anticipation. So is my heart. I turn the curve on the stairs. She darts from the corner of my eye. Every time. “Ima! Ima! Ima! Ima sheli!!!” she jumps, and squeals, and grabs at the stairs gate. Her smile is all fulfilled potential. I lift her up, I can’t grab her fast enough. Nothing about a weekday feels nearly as good as when I’m reunited with my tiny delicious daughter at the end of it.
Whadya got: