It is keeping still, somewhere in me.

But my boy could not, and so he came first, the way he would come first every single time for the rest of both our lives.

Chapter 2 — Bare Feet

Outside, the cool morning air moved against my face as I carried Roger down the walk toward the car.

His bare feet were cold against my wrist, cold enough that it frightened me, and one worn ear of his stuffed elephant rested against my collarbone as he slept on, boneless and trusting, the way only a small child can sleep.

I buckled him into his seat without turning on the interior light, moving slow so I wouldn’t wake him, and then I got behind the wheel and I sat there for a few minutes in the gray dawn, not driving, just holding the wheel and breathing, trying to make the pieces fit into a shape I could survive.