beach photo by sara b
Right now she is standing next to me watching, wondering, tinkering with the things on the desk. The other night she was coughing in her sleep. It was too late for us to be awake. I told him I would go check on her.
We had had a extraordinarily abrasive day. She and I. Guilt is buoyant and it floated my emotions right to the top.
A light kiss on her cheek must have been enough to wake her. A cool, soft arm slid around my neck.
"I love you."
More coughs slipped out and then she sighed,
Pulling her nightshirt up to cover her lips, "Teacher says you can cough here" (she demonstrated) "or in your elbow, like this, [cough cough]".
Hilarious and heartbreaking. But the humor dissolved my hubris. And I wept and I crept into bed, and finally slept.