Here I Am

I'm not tired or feeling rushed or put out by this detour off the
Central San Rafael exit to find a bathroom for Zoe. I'm mostly glad
that I took her seriously when she said she felt sick. Usually when
she says that we're on our way somewhere and while not always in a
rush, I'm one of those people who are determined to get where they are
going, leaving exactly enough time to get there. So I'm glad now that
after craning my head to the backseat a couple of times as I drove and
seeing her pained face, even after I rolled down the window and told
her to breathe, I'm just glad I had the sense to pull over and now
here we are in the gas station bathroom, which is in fairly good
shape; smelling of toxic cleaner, but a perfect place
for her to lose her breakfast in the toilet.

I'm standing behind her, one arm around her middle
just to keep her steady as she heaves into the bowl,
and another hand on her back rubbing it slowly, not wanting
to distract her, but just wanting to comfort and let her know
that I am there. A small bit of vomit splashes out of the toilet and
hits my bare feet in sandals. I don't care, I'm just glad to be here,
grateful to be here after all those years of trying to get away from
my children because I wanted to be alone or work or do my own thing.
This is where I want to be now, there's no place I'd rather be.