One of my friends in Columbia has spent much of the night last night in the hospital, where the husband of her childhood friend is dying from a massive stroke.  Her child, who is nearly three, is sitting on the kitchen counter, where her mother has placed her, and watches her while she begins to cry and recalls the events of the evening, as she tries to work her mind around the reality that her friend, who is pregnant with her third child, is in the midst of such a life shattering, path altering moment. And the child, the toddler on the counter, seeing her mother crying, now begins to cry as well. She holds her thin wobbly arms open wide and her mother scoops her up, holding her in the crux of one arm while wiping away tears with the other. As she walks across the room to the kitchen table to serve breakfast to her children, she says to her daughter, “It’s okay, I’m not crying anymore.” And only then does the child become quiet, resting her head against her mother’s chest, as if a great weight has been lifted off her tiny beating heart.


About A B

"There is all this untouched beauty, the light, the dark, both running through me." -Over The Rhine
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