Leah
Monday mornings had always felt like triage.
Lunch packed. Hair brushed. Permission slip signed. One shoe inevitably missing until the last possible second. By the time Bella padded into the kitchen in mismatched socks, rubbing sleep from her eyes, I already had coffee cooling on the counter and a mental checklist running in neat, orderly rows.
“Mommy,” she said, climbing onto a chair. “Did Grandpa Edward wake up yet?”
I paused only a fraction of a second before answering. Long enough to choose the truth that wouldn’t frighten her.
“He’s still sleeping,” I said gently. “The doctors are helping him rest.”
Bella nodded, accepting that the way she always did. She had a quiet way of understanding things without demanding more than she could carry.
“Okay,” she said. “Can I bring him
