I turn the car into the village where the primary school is. There are barely any cars here now, so I pull right up to the space nearest the yellow lines. I wave to a friend who is driving off to work. And then I feign a smile to another mum beside her car. Her blonde hair is tied back neatly, she is wearing a black-and-pink slim-fitting top and she is busy tucking her fancy patterned leggings around her ankles before stretching, up and around with her arms, preparing to go running like she does most mornings. She looks in control of her life, strong, fit, and ready to take on the world. I feel jealous and tearful. I angrily think, Who has time to go running after dropping their kids off at school?

Unless we have walked a day, a month, a year, in each other’s shoes, how can we know what each one of us is dealing with?