3
I took out the photo from Mom’s hand. We’d taken it at the art gallery a few days ago.
Dad originally had plans and didn’t want to go with us, but Mom held his hand. “Just one
more photo, please. Lily can look at it when she grows up. Otherwise… otherwise, it’d be so
sad.”
I saw tears in Mom’s eyes, but she held them back.
Dad finally agreed.
In the photo, Mom was holding me in a princess dress, leaning gently on Dad’s shoulder.
Dad didn’t push Mom away; he quietly let her lean on him.
Out of the three of us, I was the only one smiling the happiest.
Last night before bed, Mom held me and looked at this photo together. She kissed my cheek and said, “I wish Mom were more useful.”
“Lily, you have to grow up brave, and never be afraid.”
I happily rolled around in her arms, “Okay, I’ll grow up brave!”
She smiled too, but tears were on her face.
She’d been crying a lot lately, even more than me.
Then she sang me to sleep. In a daze, I heard her pleading with someone, “It’s not time yet, why are you here… Let me make a call and arrange things for my daughter… She’s only three, please…”
I didn’t know who she was talking to. There were only two of us at home.
But I was so tired, my eyelids felt too heavy to lift.
When I woke up, Mom was lying next to me, her blanket barely covering her, which was why her body was so cold.
I used my tiny hand to hold Mom’s, hoping she’d get warmer.
No luck.
