It is 6 months since that terrible night, when I got the call that my daughter had been critically injured while out viewing the stars on a train trestle with 4 friends.
Sometimes when I look at her, I am breathless, hardly comprehending that she is still here with me after what she’s been through. She is a miracle, a gift twice-given.
Tonight, as I listened to the strumming of her guitar drifting from her room, I sat on my bed with my youngest, knocking out a chapter from our latest read-together book. Eventually, my middle girl returned from her ballet lesson, flushed, exhausted, and hungry. She cuddled up on the bed beside me and we talked about her next rehearsal schedule. In and out of my room, they were, all evening– chattering, giggling, cuddling.
I have been given a gift. The gift of knowing, almost, what it would…
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