She brought flowers and baby clothes.
Then she asked to hold Sophie.
I nodded.
Watching her cradle my daughter reminded me of the afternoon she’d handed Daniel that scratched wooden box.
Carol visited the hospital.
Carol looked down at Sophie.
“You have so many people who love you.”
Then she glanced at me.
“Including a grandmother I wish you’d gotten to meet.”
I smiled.
“Mom would’ve loved her.”
“Yes, she would,” Carol whispered.
“Mom would’ve loved her.”
***
One evening, when Sophie was a few weeks old, I sat rocking her to sleep.
The music box stood on the nursery shelf.
I wound it.
The little couple began turning, and my mother’s song filled the room.
I started singing.
Halfway through, my voice broke.
I wound it.
Daniel appeared in the doorway.
“Are you okay?”
I nodded.
“I just wish Mom could see her.”
He kissed my forehead.
“I know.”
Then, my phone buzzed.
