What brought me back was a sound.
My sons breathing in the next room.
Theo’s deeper breaths.
Wyatt’s quick little ones.
Out of rhythm, the way they always slept.
I sat there listening.
Two boys who had already lost their sister.
A father who had said, “Now’s not a good time.”
Grandparents who had watched the phone ring.
If they lost me too, they would have no one.
I had spent a month learning that the one person who reliably showed up for my children was me.
So I decided
