There are days, when things just go. And I can't remember what books we've read, or what meals were served, or what words she whispered to me in the glow of the lamp in her room. I wish it weren't so, but that's life.
This morning wasn't much different except that it was.
The lil' dude and I sat as one on the couch, her pink NaNa covering us both. I was administering the Neb as her lungs have been rattly the last day or so. She was sleepy and not putting up any fight, so different from the last time the Dad and I held her down to strap her mask on ... in December, on Christmas afternoon. I think part of her knows now that medicine will help her feel better, making her chest expand once again to include laughing and running.
When we finished, I kissed her blond melon and situated her in her chair to wait for Daddy to bring her to daycare.
As I got to the entryway, digging for my keys and shoes, she heard me. No, no, NO, Mama! Mama! I quickly went to the garage, to put my things in the truck, to get something out of the freezer for dinner. I had planned on going back to her, back for her.
She was immediately on the other side of the door when I reached it, and she was crying hard. Big, fat tears. I scooped her up, balancing frozen chicken breasts in one hand, sad daughter in the other. It's OK, lil' dude. I came back for you. I'm not gone, you can come with. She kept repeating, lil' dude go bye-bye. Lil' dude go.
And naturally, on the short ride in, she was fine. We said our joint goodbyes to Daddy, counted the big trucks and buses we passed, and drank waters. Her tears dried, and she bounded up the stairs to daycare excited as ever.
Yes, there are days when things just go.
But I'll never go without her.