my thursday evening:
i told him i was frightened of the flickering yellow lights and the narrow hallways and the low ceilings and the acrid hospital stench,
that chattering teeth and cold ears and skin-tight doctor's rubber gloves made me anxious
he clutched my pinky with his pink baby hand,
"don't worry don't worry"
when it was time for me to leave,
he tugged the ends of the doctor's corduroy slacks,
"daddy, tell her her bones are made of glass
and if she falls she will crack and shatter
like when you drop a mirror
and get years and years of bad luck
like when you drop a flower vase
and get in big big trouble
unless she stays here forever"
i made mini fairy cakes and visited The Lost Boy with a copy of Finding Neverland
he slipped a toy ring onto my ring finger and smiled, "now you can never leave!"
our favorite parts:
"if you rewind, it looks like they're becoming real life!"
the children arrive