"Airin!" a voice called out to her.

She stopped and turned to the left, to a woman in her mid-thirties with gold-framed glasses, bright red lipstick, and cropped hair. "Morning, Stella!" she smiled and Stella, teacher of Group Yellow, one of the four groups of preschool level, smiled back and waved at her.

"I still owe you dinner for last week!" Stella sauntered closer.

Last week, she took some of Stella's students to be in her own group, Group Red when Stella was recovering from a case of gastroenteritis.

"Don't worry about it," Airin shook her head.

"Nope. I will worry about it. Tomorrow, Saturday, The Hollies is playing a set at McCuddy's Bar. They are among the best bossa nova jazz bands in town. Fine. If the jazz band does not interest you then if I may also share this little tidbit of information: McCuddy's mozzarella chicken wings are to die for. Come. On me."

Airin sighed, admitted privately that Stella could definitely talk at a speed that her brain could barely keep up with, and shook her head. "I have to help out at the bistro ..." she did not bother to finish her sentence.

Stella rolled her eyes, then focused back on her. "Did you have any weekend free at all? Any?" a sincere concern now in her voice.

"OK. Fine. Not McCuddy's. How about that grill place across the bridge? You said that was your Mom's favorite? Oh wait, is that where Sean works? The security guy? You and him ... damn ..." Stella started rattling off another possibility before something entered her mind, something she remembered, and that was the end of the grill place idea.

"Stella, Sean and I spent one night together 4 months ago. That was it. It was a mistake, I was in a very bad place after Mom's gone ..." Airin wanted to cry when she remembered that particular stupidity.

"Sorry ... sweetie, I just want you to have a good time. Just a bit. Your dad should understand it. Think about it, ok? Please? Let me know? We could go to any restaurant, bar, club, in town that you want. All on me. Let me know, ok?" Stella bit her lips as she said her sorry, her eyes widened, her voice softened.

Dad won't understand. Airin nodded at Stella. Stella was about to say something else when a loud shriek was heard from her classroom, followed by two young girls who broke into crying fits as they fought over one teddy bear. Stella sighed as she rushed to attend to the altercation.

Airin took a deep breath. Sean came hurtling back into her consciousness.

The biggest mistake in her life. That night she had a fight with Dad over God-knows-what. She went out and ate by herself at a grill place where Mom took her for her birthday lunches/dinners over the span of few years.

Mom loved that place, especially the beef brisket and the Cajun-marinated chicken tender grill. She ate, cried, drank few glasses of beer, all in memory of Mom. When the grill place closed off for the night, she sat half-drunk by the side of the street in front of the restaurant, and Sean, the security guard, stroke a conversation with her.

They talked for a bit. She was not sure how it happened, but she spilled her guts out about Mom, and she cried in Sean's embrace.

Sean drove her back to her apartment. They kissed, and in a beer-influenced atmosphere, decided that sex was a good idea. The rest was stupidity that she did not want to remember anymore. Sean went out of her apartment, and her life, in the morning after telling her that he actually had a fiancée.

She froze, but she did nod in agreement when he said what they did the night before was a mistake.

One hell of a stupid mistake, she did not regret that Sean was never going to be in her life, but she did regret deeply one thing: The grill place became a no-go for her now. She could not remember Mom there with Sean worked there too.

She knew Sean still worked there because she went and peeked from behind an oak tree across the street. Sean was there. Lanky, pale, and not as cute as she thought he was that night. Beer and grief really were a bad mix.

"Miss Airin!" a soft, stammering, voice greeted her.

Airin turned around, and kneeled with a smile on her face in front of a little girl with dark curly hair, bright eyes, and shy smile. She wore bright pink shirt and bright yellow shorts that contrasted her chocolate skin beautifully. A worn-out pink unicorn plushie was held tight in her little arms in front of her chest.

"Good morning, Tasha," whispered Airin and Tasha jumped and hugged her. "Thank you!" the little girl chirped right next to her left ear.

"What for?"

"You wear pink too!" Tasha replied as she let Airin go and now her round bright eyes stared at Airin endearingly.

Airin chuckled. "Yesterday you asked me to wear pink because today is your birthday. You want to have a matched shirt day. I remember that, you know? I would not miss it for the world to have a matched shirt day with you, Tasha," Airin caressed Tasha's curls, stood up, and extended her hand to Tasha. "Now let's go to class. We have a birthday to celebrate!"

Tasha grinned, took her hand, grabbed it tight, puffed up her chest and walked with Airin. The look of pride on her face was more than enough to help Airin forget about her own grey world.

Her classroom, Group Red, hummed alive with twenty preschool-aged kids. Some just sat quietly on their kid-sized chair, holding their comfort objects – a blankie or some sort of plush toys mostly – fighting hard not to fall asleep, even though one boy was already nodding off to dreamland, some were busy exploring the mini-kitchen area at the far right corner of the room, plans of what to cook and how to serve the food flew thick and fast, as did the counterargument and the stomping of the feet to show disagreement.

The mini library at the far left corner also saw some traffic with three kids laid on their tummy reading the same XL-sized pop-up book on animals in different environments.

Airin smiled as her young students saw her, and at least five of them dropped whatever they were doing and sprinted to her, took turn giving her a morning hug, and each gave a quick report of all the interesting/annoying/boring/unjust/earth-shattering things that had happened in their life, in the classroom, that morning.

Carla, her classroom assistant who was there earlier than her, flashed a toothy grin at her, then back to reading a book to a boy sitting on her lap at the library corner. The boy, Sammy, had an anxiety attack every morning he got dropped off, so a one-on-one book time was his routine to calm down.

They celebrated Tasha's fourth birthday with the happy birthday song repeated four times, and Airin made a carton tiara decorated with specially-chosen beads, stickers, and glitter glue for the birthday girl. Tasha was all smiles, in fact she had not stopped smiling from ear to ear since she saw Airin wear a matched color shirt with her.

Matched-color shirt was Airin's way to make a birthday kid feel extra special. Sometimes the birthday kid asked for a cartoon character shirt, and Airin did have a collection of shirts with princesses and superheroes on them. Elsa, Moana, and Spiderman were three of the most popular matched-shirt requests.

She spent that day among laughter, meltdowns, songs, crayons, pencils, craft projects, board games, alphabet introduction, as well as ceasefire missions among warring children, and one accident involving pee that could not be held longer.

There were times, a few seconds, a few minutes here and there, that she could stand in the middle of the classroom and just watched the children – their little hands clutched the coloring pencils, their eyebrows knotted in all seriousness, and on the blank paper in front of them, images materalized. Rainbows. Cars. Pets. Family members. Trees. Unicorns. Dinosaurs. Many many others. Free drawing time. Always her favourite, and the children's. She could feel the room brightening up from the rush of imaginative power. She felt like a witness to a wonderful happening, and she was recharged.

When the rain started falling right before the kids were supposed to have their outdoor playtime, they all huddled up at the window, and the kids started singing on top of their lungs one of their favorite nursery rhymes:

Rain rain go away

Come again another day

Little children want to play

Rain rain go away ...

Squeals of happiness were heard when the sun came peeking from behind the clouds, cancelling the rain. "It works! It works!" screamed the kids to Airin's delight she wanted to give the sun a big pat on the back and a Good Job sticker.

Happiness could be so simple. That was something Airin thankful for to have learned from her interaction with her young students.

She loved these kids and she would do anything to give them a splash of happy moment every day. Deep in her heart, she wished that these kids never had to experience grief, or life as an adult with all its stupid mistakes and tears and anger and unrealistic expectations. She knew it was silly, but she would hug all of them, protect them from the downs of the world if she could.

These children had saved her life.

Airin admitted that since the day she could hear her own laughter again, a few weeks after Mom passed. It was here, in this classroom, when the students, who thought she looked sad, started hugging her.

Some offered their snacks and lunch bread. Some offered to read her a book (even though most could not read yet), or lent her their blankies or plushies (with disclaimer like: I only have one and I only love that blankie, so only for ten minutes, only until you smile again, ok?).

She froze in surprise, then she cried, before finally she laughed.

She knew she was saved that day from falling into the abyss of her grief.

These kids were the ones who held the rope on which she hung onto so as not to free fall into the dark bottomless pit below. She would still slip from the rope, slide down (that was when a disaster named Sean happened). But she never tumbled down completely, one of her hands was always hanging onto it.

She would fight for these children. Her students. Her saviors.

She knew she would.