“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too was a gift.” Mary Oliver

Why did the principals at Swan High wait until Grace’s third suicide attempt to call us? I swatted at a mosquito buzzing around my head and stared at the side of the Jr. Navy ROTC building. I was sick of sitting in this hot car, but I had to make sure Grace got safely to her next class.
Being bullied had always been a problem for our daughter. I stared at the cement stairs and shuddered. Why wouldn’t the school’s administration tell us what happened when Grace was found unconscious at bottom of the steps? Was she pushed? Did she fall? Did she throw herself to the pavement below?
I swiped sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand and glanced in the direction of the courtyard. Why won’t the school district consider her bipolar disorder and Asperger’s syndrome diagnosis for educational support?
The clanging of the bell startled me. Doors burst open and scantily clad students scurried about like fire ants. Some held their belts to keep their pants from falling around their ankles. My daughter emerged from art class wearing a dress and flip flops. I shook my head. She’d fit in better if she’d wear jeans. Grace gave me a slight nod as she walked into the NJROTC portable.
I slapped my forearm. One blood-sucker down. I flicked the insect to a floor-board burial and phoned my husband, Jim. “I’ve seen her.”
“Thanks for sitting at the school every day.”
“I hate it. I hate she’s bullied. I hate the administration won’t consider her eligible for an IEP .” I rolled my eyes as a young couple displayed too much affection. “If the school district didn’t want to accept Grace’s doctors’ diagnosis, they should have completed their own evaluations by now.”
“I know you’re discouraged,” Jim said.
I turned the ignition. “That’s an understatement. The district has had access to Grace’s records for over six months, they need to do something.”
“I spoke to Mr. Currie this morning. He has requested mediation. Go home and try to get some rest before you go to work at the ranch.”
“Hopefully a date will be set soon.” I maneuvered around trash thrown from cars. “Praise God my dad and Dee can pick up Grace after second period and help her with the online science lesson.”
“How much longer till she can get more virtual school classes?” Jim asked.
I slammed on my brakes to miss a squirrel. “Probably two to three more weeks. With only having art, ROTC and on-line science, she’s falling further behind. I wish Mr. Currie could speed things along.”

Armani, our apricot poodle, met me at the door. I kicked off my shoes and scooped my personal comfort dog from the floor. “Come on boy. Let’s get something to eat.”
The wall clock chimed noon. I took in a deep breath, held it for five seconds and exhaled. It’s already been a long day.
My socks slid across the hardwood floor. “Whoa!” My body flailed around like a wiggly blow up sky dancer at a car dealership. I skidded into the kitchen, dropped my purse on the table and placed Armani by his water bowl. I scarfed down a peanut butter and jelly sandwich then whistled for Armani to follow me upstairs. I set the alarm for two o’clock while my furry friend took his spot near my feet. Sleep would give me the strength to put on my mucking boots.
The mattress felt warm and cozy. I pulled a blanket halfway over my bone-tired body while Armani licked my toes. “At least we don’t have to pay board for Grace’s horses,” I said to my faithful pooch.
I awoke an hour later, not to music from the alarm, but to thunder. I covered my face with the pillow. “Armani, the sun is supposed to be dancing at Sundance Ranch.”
Unfortunately, the nineteen geldings, including Grace’s, King Yaddie and Black, weren’t convinced they didn’t need to eat during a storm. I slowly slipped out of bed. Lightning lit the room as I caught a glimpse of myself in a full length mirror. I needed to swap out the white t-shirt into a darker one. It was going to be a long afternoon. Usually Armani followed me from room to room but today he stayed curled under the blanket. I patted his head. “See you later, you lucky dog.”
I didn’t hurry to the car. Raincoats and umbrellas scared the horses so getting saturated was inevitable. Raindrops pummeled my head. My boots splashed puddles like tiny fountains. No matter how bad I looked, the horses would be happy to see me.

Jim and Grace arrived at the ranch at 6 o’clock. Grace ran past me. “This rain is great. See that mud puddle?” She pointed to a growing pond in the pasture. “I’m riding Black through it.”
Miss Karen, the ranch owner, called out, “You make sure Black’s head doesn’t drop. If it does, he’s going to try to roll in the water with you on him.”
Grace waved. “I’ll be fine.”
I smiled at my daughter then looked deep into my husband’s hazel eyes. Sometimes I forgot how gorgeous they were and how I could get lost in them. I blinked as water dripped from my bangs. “I left you the troughs to clean.”
Jim pulled his Drover coat and jeans out of the backseat of his truck. “You go home and get a hot shower. I’ll finish up here.”