“Mom!” yelled my daughter, Cara, who I thought already left for school with her sister. I was running late for work, again, and failed to answer. I was looking for a warmer pair of gloves for the upcoming polar vortex due to blow that January afternoon.
Daddy and I would stand behind your crib, taking turns to watch you fall asleep, your eyelashes fluttering until shut in a goodnight kiss. We stayed nearby in case you needed us to pet your thick, dark hair or hold your hand.