Hanging up the phone, Mom appears from her bedroom, bearing a serious, agitated look.
“She says that everybody is to get out. She wants nobody here when she gets home.”
My children look to me, panic-stricken.
“Everybody,” I ask, numb from the shock. “I‘m not leaving.”
“Mama!” my oldest, clutches her four-month old, and begins throwing things into a suitcase.
“It’s hard to figure out what’s important to take.” She looks up at me.
From their cars, loaded down with hastily-gathered belongings, anxious faces peer, begging. “Mama! Please, come with us!”
My heart splits.
I pause, tears streaming, turn away.