It’s fall here.
The temperature is hovering somewhere in the warm 60’s, warm enough to just stand outside, with a summer skirt and bare legs, and feel fall.
The sky is all drama — you know how fall can be a bit over the top — with thick clouds, broken by occasional bits of golden sunlight.
The wind. Oh, the wind. It’s thick. That’s the only word I can think of. Thick and loud and warm and scented with bits of cut grass and dried leaves and cloud moisture.
It’s just the sort of day you dream of when you dream of fall.
Ryan would love it.
I touched her soft head, covered in the peach fuzz that says we’re related.
I touched her little cheek that will one day be full and chubby but for now is just delicate.
Like her long, thin fingers.
And her tiny wrist.
Even her lips are the tiniest, sweetest lips I’ve ever seen.
She smells fresh, like a baby should, even after two weeks in the NICU.
And her eyes are wide, and they smile when she sees and hears her daddy. Really, they do.
She’s a delicate little princess baby, perfect, except.
Except when I put my hand on her sweet little chest, I felt a heart pounding, racing, struggling.
It’s okay, Little Aubrey!, I wanted to say. Don’t be afraid! Calm down! We love you and will take care of you! It’s okay!
But she can’t just calm down. She needs a miracle. She needs peace spoken to her heart, calm and quiet.
She needs a new heart.
Don’t forget. Pray for Aubrey.