Charlotte
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Summer Rose was born at 7:32pm on a completely cloudless spring day. Her father caught her in the birthing pool, bringing her towards him, a look of awe on his face that I will never forget. Her name seemed so fitting conceived in the summer, and being inspired by my father's name. Rose was an ode to Delia, Rose being her middle name. She was a woman who had gone the extra mile, while Jeff headed to Vegas for the first part of his residency. She ferried me to appointments and touched my bump so tenderly that medical professionals assumed she was a doting grandmother. And for all intents and purposes, she was. The most loving grandmother a child could ever hope to have. Whilst I was unable to fly, Jeff came back every week, a tiring schedule that Anderson was on
