"Good news!" my son proclaimed as he tossed his backpack into the car and plopped himself down in the seat next to me. "There's a good chance our track team will be undefeated this season."
I had a feeling I knew what was coming next.
"The bad news is, that's because track is probably going to be canceled," he continued.
"Are you disappointed?" I asked.
"Yeah," he responded, just as I expected he would.
I pulled away from the curb, and we drove in silence toward home. The air in the car was heavy, but then again it had felt that way all day. I felt like I had been slammed with a sledge hammer repeatedly. My delightful class of yesterday had clearly sent their evil twins today. By the time the dismissal bell rang, I felt battered and bruised and decidedly defeated. Seeing my son's disappointment at possibly missing out on his first track season, and surmising my older son would most likely miss out on his last, did little to improve my mood.
Following the gray ribbon of asphalt winding its way through town, I squinted in the bright sunshine that streamed in through the windshield. In a few hours, that sun would sink below the horizon, putting a close on this day that went more wrong than right.
And tomorrow, it would rise on a brand new day and the chance to begin again.