What am I doing here?

This is a meeting room and a dozen people are seated. All are looking at a bespectacled man pointing out pie charts and bar diagrams from his well-researched presentation. They are nodding and asking questions.

I should be at home with my son. When I left home today, he ran and jumped to my arms as is his custom every day to say bye and plant a kiss. Then he says, “Mamma, take my nose to office with you, you can keep it while you work.” And when I pretend to take it, he says, “No, no give my nose back to me”. This is the routine every day. I take his nose and then give it back. Then I go to office.

I should be now curled up in bed with him, our bodies making a small c inside a larger C, my hand entwined around him, the way we both like, for an hour and a half, when he would suddenly sit up wide awake, saying “Mamma, It’s time to get up!” and I would plead with him to let me sleep for another 5 minutes more, which he would royally refuse.

What use am I here, I am not even listening to what the man is rambling on about.

I could take him out for a walk, for cycling, come back and play tennis or basketball with him and then help him with his homework and yell at him for being naughty and squeal with laughter watching Tom and Jerry.

Now I will go back to my PC after this conference and then prepare documents and review some others and send mails upon mails to customers and then the day will be over and the sun would have set and my son would have had his sleep alone and would have played alone and would be at the window waiting for a glimpse of his Mother.

I should be at home now.

.