Three years later we were struck sick to discover that Little Billy had just been very good at playing hide and seek.
Mom says it’s the longest night. Amy goes to bed at 8 as always, & wonders how much extra dream time will magically be tacked onto the night.
He arrived to pick them up from the hospital. Her room was empty. “She said she’s sorry,” the nurse said as she handed him the baby.
Every day she left a red rose and a Hallmark card at her mom’s office and her dad’s studio, hoping they’d get back together in a week or so.
Children’s voices, a sound of joy that pierced her soul like an icy knife. Every screech and giggle a reminder of one rainy night, long ago.
And by the way, have a nice day, Mother dear. Sorry to hear that Dad died. He was sixty three, but curiously, looked nothing like me.