Charlie jumped into the backseat with his iPad in tow. He never left home without the damn thing. Sometimes, I wish I never bought him one. Weren't kids supposed to play outside, roll in the dirt and make a mess? My kid's eyes were glued to it. More often than not, I pried it out of his tiny fingers, which naturally sent him into a fit of rage.

"How's your game?" I questioned dryly.

"Can't talk. I'm on level twenty-eight, and I'm about to face the boss."

"Alrighty then," I trailed off and turned the radio on a little louder. Even though my son didn't want to talk to me, I'd grasp entertainment in the form of singing my heart out to the newest pop song that I didn't remotely know the words to. Charlie giggled in the back seat while his thumbs pounded furiously on his game console.

Charlie's new school was located a few blocks away from our new apartment. With a new city, though, comes new traffic patterns. It took twenty minutes to reach the elementary school, which happened to be enough time for the boss to face destruction.

"Okay, kiddo. Hand it over," I said.

"Do I have to?" He pouted.

"Yes. You know the rules. No taking the tablet to school." The last time I let Charlie bring his prized possession to class, he was caught red-handed playing Angry Birds during Math. I believed his punishment was fair and just: I banned him from ever bringing it to school again.

I know, I know. I'm a mean mom.

"Do you want me to walk you in?"

"I'm not a baby, Mom. Sheesh!" Charlie rolled his eyes. Even though he physically took after me, the eye-rolling was purely his father. I had to speak to him about that soon. I couldn't have my son acting like a jerk. More importantly, I didn't want my son acting like his dad.

"I'll be here to pick you up before the after-school program ends, okay?"

I stretched to reach the back seat and kissed Charlie on the cheek.

"Bye, Mom!"

Just like that, my boy started a new school. He didn't even want me to hold his hand.

Damn.

I checked the clock on my dashboard and realized time alluded me. I thought I set aside enough time for taking Charlie to school, but it seemed as though traffic didn't care about my plans. I sped to make it on time. The irony wasn't lost on me: an attorney breaking the law. Hardy-har-har.

I flew downtown in record time and scored the very last spot in the ramp a block away from my new firm. I'd heard I would have trouble finding parking, but that was an understatement. My pulse quickened, and I grabbed my purse, my Vera Bradley lunch tote, my briefcase, and lukewarm coffee.

Please don't be late on your first day, I thought.

It took less than a block for me to realize heels were a bad choice. I limped and moaned with every painful step. When you don't wear stilettos for a while, it's fairly easy to lose your sense of balance. You also forget how much they hurt like an SOB. Tomorrow, I'd wear comfy shoes for the walk to work and bring my pumps to change into once I reached my office. Some days, I'm Super Mom and the Queen of the World. Others? I'm a hot freakin' mess.

The twenty-story building shone brightly from a block away. The sun reflected off the shiny windows, and it stood like a beautiful beacon of hope. My heart thudded with excitement as my fresh start, my new beginning, my sequel stood tall before me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught rustling movement upon a park bench under a handful of oak trees. A man, or at least, I thought it was a man, pulled a sleeping bag up toward his neck, covering his body. The burgundy bag caught my attention; my father owned the exact same one.

Growing up, my father tried to teach me how to camp, “try” being the keyword. The outdoors never appealed to me like they did to my dad. He loved hunting season especially. On my twelfth birthday, my dad surprised me by taking me out to the mountains for a daylight hike followed by an overnight camping expedition. He bought me a matching burgundy sleeping bag, and we spent the entire night gazing at the stars and telling stories. After he passed, I couldn’t bring myself to throw away the sleeping bag, even though my father’s ghost lingered inside its cozy lining. The man on the bench slept inside the same exact one; I could spot that brand from a mile away.

Back home, homeless people were not a rare occurrence, but there was something about this man that struck me; maybe it was the sleeping bag, or maybe it was the long dog tag necklace hanging from his neck. At a glance, I cringed for the man frozen to his bones. I shivered despite wearing a full-length down coat. I could only imagine how he felt. Had he been outside all night? How did he lose his home? Wasn't there anyone out in the world who could help him? Take him in? Dozens of questions swirled in my head as I walked past him. Winter had only just begun. This man would suffer many more abysmal nights before the weather broke.

Here I was walking to my new cozy job while another human being woke up underneath a tree. Damn, life was cruel sometimes.