I’ll admit it, vacation was long. I tried to stay cheery in the blog, pretending that every day went splendidly, but it was a total lie. On the grayest of days, when rain was about to spit out of the sky like nasty chew at a Teamster’s convention, it finally happened, my kids were exposed to the realities of life. It went kind of like this:
“I’m starving, why can’t we eat? Let’s go to Whole Foods. I want sushi. I’m bored,” my daughter said as I gripped the wheel of my car wondering who on earth invented April vacation.
“We’re going home for lunch,” I muttered, waiting for the whine that was sure to erupt from the back seat.
“Mom…” My son said, voice low. “I think that’s a dead body.”
“What?” I frantically peer around. “I don’t….” A slow realization hit me because there under a sheet was a clear outline of a body. “Ohh…”
My daughter groaned, “How do you know that person is dead?”
“Well, it’s not moving and a sheets over the face.”
Indeed, the body on the stretcher underneath the white sheet was obviously dead, right there on the side of the road, in the middle of April freaking vacation.
Last year during April vacation, we traveled to Baltimore where we visited the Children’s Museum. Here, my son was totally flipped out by this really cool Ancient Egypt exhibit. It did have creepy adventure music and dark alleyways and mummies, but it was obviously fake stuck between the water room and the Curious George exhibit. Still, scary.
So, yes, it’s vacation week. It’s raining. We’ve just seen our first dead body together. But, that is life. I took a big breath and said, “Yes, that person is obviously dead.”
My daughter replied, “I’m officially freaked out.”
“Me too….” came the second voice from the back seat.
Now, let me first say that it wasn’t my first choice, seeing a dead body on the side of the road in the middle of the day, but it is a reality of life. There is a time that everyone needs to face what happens on the other side of the tracks and that was my kid’s day.
“Can we still get sushi?” Came a small voice from the back seat.
“Okay,” I say looping the car around the block. “Life’s short.”