On the way home from theater practice, my daughter’s friend threw up in the car. The cake I’d made for class now sat on her skirt; and the booster chair; and the car floor. There was no place to pullover; we had a few miles left to wind down the mountain road.

I fished for wipees as we all choked back the gagging feeling in our throats.

The next morning, with the vomit episode fresh in her mind, my daughter was informed she’d be “going to the beach” with her father. Since he travels a lot, it was a good chance for them to spend some hours together between a business engagement and the hours waiting around. The pair would leave in the morning in our little cargo van.

Coco was torn:
Time with Papi VS the fresh image of her friend blowing chunks in the car ( and of course leaving Mami).

Since Coco could relate with her friend (she’s also thrown up on many-a-mountain roads), she was terrified she’d throw-up in the van. The wailing began the night before the trip. She cried her discontent until sleep overtook her. I figured she wouldn’t be going, and I’d be with the child once again.

In the morning Coco came to the table.

Mami, did you pack my snack?

This is something I so admire in this girl. She feels everything. But….and this may be the key could all learn a thing or two about…..she turns it around. Coco felt the fear of vomiting, missing her mother, her brother, and whatever else was creeping around her psyche; dove in; felt it; faced it; and now she was moving on.

That didn’t mean there weren’t a few more tears as she searched for her teddy bear and shoes.

I said goodbye to the pair. Coco sat in the car seat. Her face looked like someone had stamped red ink all over her face. Tears trailed down her cheeks.

I’m going to miss you! I miss Addison!

The van pulled out of the driveway. I could still hear her wailing at the top of her lungs as the garage door shut. My husband said the crying lasted to the corner…..and she arrived without all her stomach juices safely intact.