We traveled a path in the woods. I carried a camera. He carried a stick. My pace was steadier than his. I walked unless I stopped to wait. He ran ahead. He fell behind. He took my hand to be helped along.
It was All Saints' Day, and he had nowhere to be but with me. His Catholic school was closed for the day. He's Catholic, my son. My husband and daughter, too. Not me.
When we chose his school, when it chose us, I was nervous. Unsure how it would be to be a Catholic school family, as a non-Catholic. I held my breath. Took a deep breath in and waited.
A week went by. A month. Two. And I realize now that I've been breathing again, without noticing I was. It's all right. It's really all right.
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