I nearly cried over a broken zip

Dear Delyara, I was trying to get everyone ready, already feeling behind, and the zip just stopped halfway and refused to move. Not dramatically broken, not snapped in two, just jammed enough to create one more problem in a morning with no room for them. He looked at me like I would fix it because of course I would. That’s what mothers do in children’s eyes — we fix the thing, solve the moment, absorb the timing, and keep the morning from falling apart. I did fix it. Eventually. But while I was crouched there fighting a stupid zip with cold fingers and rising panic, I could feel tears behind my eyes and knew the tears had nothing to do with clothing. They were about pressure. Accumulation. Being the point where everything comes when it goes wrong.