It is wedged against the inside of a box of books when I find it. I tug, not even sure what it is as I do so. A moment later it is in my hands. A small doorknob sign, cross-stitched with branches and birds and eggs. Baby Sleeping, it reads. I stare at it unblinking. It is small and light, but my hands feel suddenly heavy.
What is this? Where did it come from?
Then I remember a hopeful friend about 10 years ago and her hopeful shining face and that sting comes again, that sting in my stomach and in my eyes. A sting that used to be my constant mocking companion, but who now only drops by rude and unannounced, like this. I have not missed him. One last fleeting glance at those delicate nesting birds and I shove the sign back in the box.
*standing in silent support, unable to speak any word of comfort or wisdom, praying a small and needy prayer*
I don’t have the words.
what the other 2 said, tracey …
silent support coming your way. and, as always, a thank you for sharing this with us.
I, also, don’t know what to say. But my thoughts are with you.