Some mornings we head to the local coffeehouse and have a little breakfast for the kids and a little caffeine jolt for me. Last week’s visit didn’t feel any different, except for the fact we snagged the coveted window seat. The kids like the puffy seat cushions and I like the fact we can sit and relax during breakfast. It was like a scene from a movie. Blissful, calm. And then it happened.

“Mom, I see James, from my old school standing in line. I want to go.” Hope shrunk in her seat as if she could make herself invisible. The panic on her face snapped me out of my morning haze and in a nanosecond I had scooped up all the contents of the table including my son and was walking steadily out the door. We didn’t say a word until we all got to the car. Bless him, Will was still drinking his milk when he said “What was that?”. As I explained, I noticed Hope still had a look of despair on her face.

“I know you didn’t want to talk with James today and that is okay.” I threw it out there like I was just making small talk. You could see her brain was buzzing with the flood of what-ifs. Did he see her? Will he tell the friends from the old school about her? “Hope, honey, you never have to answer to anyone else for who you are. You never have to be ashamed. Be proud of who you are,” I added as I watched her wiggle in her booster seat. “There may come a day when you feel good about talking with James and that is okay too. You be the judge of when that is and do what makes you feel comfortable,” my voice cracked a little as I spoke.

“Thank you for getting us out of there Mom. I’m not ready to talk to him.” Hope replied with a tiny smile and a little shake of her head telling me everything would be okay. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to help you kids. I am here to protect you,” rattled out of my mouth as if I was reminding myself as much as them. The adrenaline kicked in harder than a triple shot.