I sit directly across from her couch, look for her face, seeking Celia. She's not there.
Earlier the sky, dark now, was a deep, even gray, a universe in sympathy.
special spot, part of our family's outdoor festivities.
leftovers, Andy and Tucker played "Sharks," a raucous game that appears to include lots of running, some tickling, a variety of animal noises, and copious laughter. It was only a few months ago that Andy's after dinner hours were spent mixing medications, feeding and stretching and pajamaing Celia.
So much of her is still here, and yet not.
Not her. Not my little girl.