Anyway, on our drive we chatted, and then he said “Mom, I think we should go back now.”
“Ok, you’ve had enough?”
“Well, I just saw giant rats as big as men eating out of the garbage can.”
“Did that scare you, Brad?”
“No, it didn’t scare me.”
“Good, because you know giant rats aren’t real, right? That’s just your mind playing tricks on you.”
“Yes, I know Mom.”
“Ok, good. How’s your hand feeling?”
“It still hurts.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you want to drive around a bit more, or do you want to go back home now?”
He wanted to go home so, in silence we drove back and as I tucked him in I said “Here’s hoping you will just sleep this off and your hand will feel better in the morning.” I wish someone had done that with me when I was scared. I’m on the descent and I haven’t reached the foot of the stairs yet.
Brad texted me just as I was thinking of that and asked how I was. A small exchange and a failed phone call later I wrote a letter to him. A quick drive to his house to drop it off and I return to make dinner for two on Valentine’s Day so I can eat today and have leftovers tomorrow. I think of the last two babies I haven’t written letters to and don’t know how to tread. I cannot force it. How low can you go? How slow can you go? Just relax and breathe.