ADVERTISEMENT
Since then, it’s just been me and Alice, our daughter, who is 15 now. She has her dad’s dry wit and my stubbornness, which is a tricky mix on most days. She still slips little notes into my lunch bag, just like she did when she was younger.
Last week, she drew a tiny cartoon of a tired nurse holding a giant coffee cup with the words “Hang in there, Mom.” I laughed so hard, I almost cried.
She’s far too good at understanding what I can’t afford.
That Friday started like most others: chaotic and loud. The ER was short-staffed again. Two nurses had called out, and the patient board lit up before I could even take my first sip of coffee.
Continue reading…
ADVERTISEMENT