Because he was warm.
Breathing.
Alive.
He kissed my cheek, then my lips.
“God, I missed you,” he whispered.
“I missed you too.”
For a moment, neither of us let go.
“I love you,” I whispered.
“I love you too.”
“But you cannot disappear every time you’re frightened.”
He nodded against my shoulder.
“I need the truth, even when it’s ugly.”
“You’ll have it.”
We held each other for several minutes.
Neither of us wanted to let go.
Finally, Jeremy pulled back just enough to look at me.
“Can I see them?”
I rolled the stroller closer.
He reached toward one daughter.
Then stopped.
“What if I drop her?”
“I’ve been practicing with a weighted doll in therapy,” he whispered. “But she was never going to move or cry.”
