I stopped at the foot of the concrete steps and turned around.

My mother was standing on the porch holding Emma’s winter coat.

She hadn’t brought Emma’s shoes.

The little sneakers were still sitting inside on the mudroom mat.

“You’re just going to make a fool of yourself,” my mother said.

“They’ll laugh at you in the emergency room for bringing in a kid with a little bump on the head.”

She came down one step and held out the puffy pink coat.

“She needs a doctor,” I said.