August. Hot. Friday the thirteenth. Unemployed. Homeless.
The phone was cut off. My water broke at dawn. Daunting. She was a mere
4-pound-12-ounce baby at 17.5 inches long, making her presence known before noon,
six weeks before scheduled. Her father embarked solo on a cross-country drive we
meant to take together. She and I remained. The hospital kept her longer under
lights. Her grandparents took us to their home and cared for us until we were
ready to rejoin her father. We flew to Chicago. Her uncle exclaimed, “She’s so
tiny.” Hush, I thought. She was, in my eyes, perfect.
No comments:
Post a Comment