I hadn’t imagined Tessa in a hospital bed.

When I got home, I went into Lauren’s spare room and found my daughter asleep with her sketchbook open.

She had drawn a school building under a bright sun.

Three tiny figures stood near the doors.

In each one’s hand was a star.

I sat at the foot of the bed for a long time, not moving.

A nine-year-old child had more faith in tomorrow than I did.

I wanted to deserve it.