The kids are late for school
and my husband is already in the car
and I have a meeting soon
with an important client
and it is then
that my son
looks at me
with tears,
“Mama, I just can’t stop thinking
about all the Jews that died.”
I irrationally find myself wishing
for an app that could bookmark
his fragile face
for later in the day.
“Mama, it will never happen again, right?”
I can hear my husband call his name from the car.
I take a breath,
which feels as hard
as standing still
in a fire.
I hug him,
as slowly as I can,
and I tell him
that his heart
is right to break.
He hugs me back,
and then runs to the car,
and I whisper my answer,
“never again”
as I stand
for just one more second
in the quiet,
wanting so badly
for that to be true.