1 month ago
Saturday, December 8, 2012
So, we are sitting at the dinner table. Not a spoonful of chicken noodles left. Kayla had three helpings and ate her vegetables as we lingered. Candle bright. Full-bellied cozy. "Kayla, I wrote a story about daddy being in the hospital. Would you like me to read it to you?" "No way," 10 year old Kayla replies without hesitation. "I don't want to go back there." Clear the dishes, no scraps to toss, turn on hot water, pour in suds and scrub.