I sat in silence leaving the hospital.  My world was spinning and now I needed to drop Brett off for a couple of end-of-day meetings.  The thought of him peeling away from me at that very moment was excruciating.  He opened the car door and his shoes climbed across the sidewalk towards his tower of work, leaving me to quickly move down the street by myself.

I felt as if I was physically drowning and my life raft just floated away.

I drove slowly down the street to our son's school and sat motionless staring at the empty playground.  Maybe if I didn't move the universe wouldn't see how lost I was.  I could feel everyone else moving though.  Getting on with their lives.  Planning something fun.

 I needed to go inside and grab our little boy but was unable to move from the seat.  I held the car key in my hand, looking at it, as if to say, 'where to from here'?

I scooped Cooper up and I held him as we escaped the concrete.  There was one patch of open grass in the middle of the city.  I could finally breathe.

I extended my legs out in front of me and felt the cool cement bench below.  Cooper ran through the grass as if there were no reason to be sitting. 

A bit later Brett came walking across the grass himself.  He picked me up and walked us to the car.  As he got off the exit for the house soon after he said, "I'm going to walk someone down the aisle someday," almost to himself.

He could somehow see past all of this.

I wasn't so sure.


A few weeks later Christmas came.