"I don’t feel good. Can I go to the nurse’s office?"
"Yes," said my teacher.

I slowly walked to the nurse’s office, holding the hallway pass, an old piece of wood with the word "Pass" and our homeroom number "102," carved into it. The hallway was hushed and chilly. I knocked on the school nurse’s door.
"Come in," she said.

I plugged in the Christmas tree lights, took my Barbie dolls out of an old shoe box, and placed them underneath the tree. I imagined the Christmas lights were those of Times Square on New Year's Eve.

Imagination allowed me to get away from what was real -- another Christmas without presents.

My husband looked at the caller ID. “It’s your mother.” I grabbed the phone and stared at it. I wasn’t going to answer. I wasn’t going to answer because I knew she wanted to wish me a happy mother’s day.

But something compelled me to pick up.

“Hello.”

“Lia, happy mother’s day,” she said.

I didn’t want to say it back but I did, “Same to you.”

“Are you getting ready for church?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Enjoy your day,” she said, before hanging up.

My son was overjoyed. After school he jumped into the back seat, opened his book bag and pulled out an envelope and said, “Mommy, I am selling candy; do you want to buy some?”

I remembered the World’s finest chocolate bars – caramel, almond and crispy rice. He talked so fast, his words were running over each other. “I am going to knock on doors in our building, I am going to take it to church and sell candy to the Pastor. Mommy, can you take it to work and ask your co-workers to buy some?

“You are not selling any candy,” I said.

“Why?” Lil' Danny asked.

I imagine it is easier for my mother to stay in her own world.