There are nights when I look at my sleeping kids, and all I can think, over and over again, is “please don’t die.”
I had a dream last night that my oldest had died. He was back as a ghost. We played, but he couldn’t talk. And I knew at somepoint he would leave.
A child his in our state was murdered in an act of road rage this week. I try to avoid such news but it has been everywhere. The low level panic from reading about that is wearing me thin. I can’t help but see my child in these stories. I know it is someone’s little girl. And there is nothing that makes me different from them other Han time and place. I know how easy it is for life to change in an instant.
So to my kids, tonight, please don’t die.