The first two years were about survival.
Changing diapers while holding back tears. Falling asleep on the nursery floor. Returning to work because grief didn’t pay for diapers.
Some mornings, I’d put cereal in the refrigerator and milk in the cupboard before noticing.
My mother moved in to help, and I’ll always be grateful for that.
I filled the house with pictures of Sarah.
“Who dat?” Ari, almost two, asked one day.
“That’s your mommy.”
“She funny?”
“The funniest person I ever knew, sweetheart.”
“How Mama talk, Daddy?”
My smile
