The day before she must turn in two projects for school, my oldest daughter comes home from visiting with a friend and is down for the count --swollen throat -- headache -- fever --body --aches -- and extreme fatigue --everything. I notice something is wrong with her as soon as she walks into the house. She doesn't look at me. She doesn't say anything. There is no smile, no energy, no cheer. There was none of that usual not quite thirteen "pep in her step". Instead, she reeks of "I don't want to be bothered", and her eyes and cheeks seemed to be being pulled down towards the ground.

"What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing. I just don't feel well."

"Can I get you anything?" I ask following her to her bedroom. I manage to remain far enough behind her, as not to violate her personal space, but not so far so that when she goes to shut her door, I am not able to push it back open.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

I turn and walk out of her bedroom, leaving her door slightly ajar knowing this is not over.

I head towards my bedroom as my youngest daughter hands me her bright pink book bag and wait for me to tell her what to do next. It's like that between she and I. She doesn't make many moves without being first directed -at least by me.

Going through her folder is a joke because almost everything needs to be thrown away. Trash, paper, trees.

On the very top of a pile in her homework folder was a white piece of paper that screamed:

Memo: Your child has been exposed to Group B Streptococcus

I'm thinking, "You've got to be kidding me, right?"

But, NO. I continue to read the rest of the memo and discover the date of exposure was just two days ago. The paper continues on to tell me what Group B Streptococcus is, how people are infected, the symptoms and a list of things to do, if I think my child may be showing symptoms.

I'm sure this is what has my oldest daughter on her hind, and why she appeared so vulnerable when she first walked into the house. It makes much more sense now. I walk back into her room, sit down on the floor right next to her and tell her the news. She doesn't care. She just wants to sleep.

I let her.