It is Friday morning July 5th and I am planning on taking a mental health day when I check my work calendar and realize I need to be in the office in the afternoon to lead a meeting and to conduct an interview. Drat, I think. Either that or some other four letter word. In any case, I plan a mental health morning as the only real break I've gotten the past three weeks feels like the 12 hour flight from San Francisco to Beijing. Work has just been too much. But this morning, no work, just me an Elisa walking to her kindergarten.

In the US we would say Elisa is in pre-school and starting kindergarten in the fall when she will be five but here everything before the 1st grade is called kindergarten. Either that or no one knows the English for pre-school. I certainly don't know the Chinese for Kindergarten (wait, I just looked its up, it's called Yòu'éryuán 幼儿园). Elisa feels it's a bit unfair that she has to go to school when Aidan and Lydia are now into day one of their summer vacation but unlike last year she does not throw a fuss. She puts on her own shoes and we head out the door together. I don't get to walk Elisa to school very often, maybe twice a year. She leads me down the elevator and through the Starbucks shortcut and into the street. We have to get to the diagonal so we just go with whatever direction is green. When we get to our corner she cuts across my body to stand in shade. It is July in Beijing which means heat. We walk slowly and chat and then I start to realize that we are walking slowing but for once she's not asking me to carry her. She tells me that sometimes when mom or ayi walks her they cross the street at a different spot. People walking in the other direction look at her but she pays them no attention.

Halfway into our 10 minute walk to school she tells me that there is no need to walk her to her classroom, that she will do that. My job is just to get her to the gate of the school, which after weaving down the alley I do. The guard greets her by her Chinese name and once through the gate she picks up her pace which is when it dawns on me that she was walking at my pace, not hers. I say "bye-bye Elisa" and she turns her head, waves, and without breaking stride says "bye bobbie".

I feel proud and sad and nostalgic. My little girl is growing up. I turn away from the school with a heavy heart, take a step, and sigh just as a delivery man on electronic almost saws me in half.

I walk back home, thinking I really need better sandals. Thinking I really need that mental health day.