Marisol
“Mom!”
Was the escape all just a dream? I could remember bits of it, but not everything.
“Mommy! Wake up.”
I was so comfortable; it felt like I was floating on a cloud. Maybe we had tried to escape, and I didn’t make it. Perhaps this was heaven? It sure was soft.
“Ms. Morgan, why won’t she open her eyes? Is she alright?”
Ms. Morgan? Who was that? Oh! Morgan. I talked to her; she brushed my hair. I did make it out, and I wasn’t dead.
“She’s just tired, sweet boy. She missed a few naps where she was, and now she’s making up for it.”
That was a good answer, perfect for a four-year-old to understand. Morgan and Kade’s baby was going to be in good hands if she could come up with something like that so quickly. Improvisation was vital in motherhood.
