Mark nodded even though she couldn't see. He'd suddenly lost any desire to talk, and his plans for a perfect day washed away with the stream. The memories. They never let him go, not even for a half hour. They always had to rush back in, bringing all the horror.
I want to remember warming your two a.m. bottle, clipping your locks, watching you be baptized, bathing you in the big porcelain sink_ how I often laid you against my chest and felt the cradlesong of your tiny breaths as you fell asleep . . .
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I want to remember warming your two a.m. bottle, clipping your locks, watching you be baptized, bathing you in the big porcelain sink_ how I often laid you against my chest and felt the cradlesong of your tiny breaths as you fell asleep . . .
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