Repose

Suddenly, she eats. Devours entire slices of smoked turkey deli meat and triple cream cheese from a Brooklyn co-op. It brightens her eyes and perks her walk. We skip down Leroy Street in the sunshine and death feels so far away. Lurking around the corner, certainly, but no longer entrenched in every breath. Friends come to visit her, my sister calls to say goodnight via webcam; everyone wants to spread the love into every available space in her tiny body. We rejoice in the good moments, smother her in five times as many embraces as before.

But it is not that which is truly the best part of getting these last few days with her. The best part is when I wake up in the morning and stumble into the kitchen to make my coffee, and I see her lying there in her bed under my chair, nuzzled into her blanket like so many mornings before. It is turning a corner and seeing her great big eyes stare up at me before she pitter-patters away down the corridor in search of new adventure. It is all those normal moments that have become routine, that have become a part of our home. It is that which will be so empty, once she is no longer there to fill it, that I truly cherish now.

Absorb the everyday magic. It is that which makes up your life.