every day to stay with her as much as possible.
Sometimes I go with my parents, sometimes
with Nate or Patrick, even when the nurse told me
when he doesn’t come with me he goes by himself
and stays with the baby as long as she lets him. He
has not missed one day.
We don’t talk much in the car because I’m
always so anxious to see her, afraid that something
may have happened to her in my absence.
Patrick brushes my hand and squeezes it lightly.
I turn to smile at him before looking out the
window and counting the minutes that separate us
from seeing her again.
These weeks have been so frenetic and
confusing that I still haven’t had time to be alone
with him to speak and try to clear things up. To tell
him how I feel.
I’m afraid that by now the moment has passed
and that something is broken between us,
something that can’t be repaired. It’s true, he’s
always present and told me that he would always
be there for us, but that doesn’t mean that we’ll be
a traditional family and we’ll all live under the
same roof.
It’s obvious he’s fond of Lily and so is the rest
of his family but that does not imply that he also
loves her mother and wants to spend the rest of his
life with her.
We go up the stairs: by now I am healed and a
little bit of movement will help me get back to my
