“I just didn’t want him to die,” he muttered.
They took our information, asked a few more questions, then left. Red tail lights disappeared into the dark.
Back inside, my hands didn’t stop shaking until I wrapped them around a mug of tea.
Jax sat at the kitchen table, hunched over his hot chocolate.
“You okay?” I asked.
He shrugged.
“I keep hearing him,” he said.
“That little cry.”
“You did everything right,” I said. “You found him. You called.
You stayed. You kept him warm.”
“I didn’t think,” he said. “I just… heard him and my feet moved.”
“That’s usually what heroes say,” I said.
He rolled his eyes.
“Please don’t tell people your son is a ‘hero,’ Mom,” he said.
“I still have to go to school.”
We went to bed late.
I lay there staring at the ceiling, thinking about that tiny baby with blue lips and shaking shoulders.
Was he okay? Did he have anyone?
Continue reading…
