Page 3 of Scarred

Feeling the love radiating off of her as she presses a soft kiss to our daughter’s newborn head while she sleeps in my arms.

Watching her long blonde hair gently blow in the breeze as she steps outside and heads to her car.

The storm that came through an hour later.

Hearing the sound of the rain pelting the glass from the ferocious wind.

The call moments later that made me drop to my knees.

Pain.

Anger.

Grief.

They circle around me now like predators, each one waiting for its turn to sink its teeth into me.

My phone vibrates in my jacket, dragging me back to the present. I loosen my grip and reach into my pocket, seeing Mae’s name light up the screen with a photo attached.

The second I open the text message, everything inside me shifts.

My breath starts to even out, and love begins to seep into the shadows, reminding me of why I need to keep going.

Blonde curls lay across her pillow as her little sleeping body rests on its side. She’s clutching Stormy, our dolphin mascot, to her chest. It was a gift I gave her the day she was born, although now it wears a pink tutu skirt across its tail fin.

My finger traces the screen over her long, dark lashes and cute button nose. She’s the spitting image of Jules and the last reminder of how beautiful our life once was. Because of her, I got through the darkest time of my life. I had someone more important than myself who needed me, giving me both the strength and a reason to wake up each day and put one foot in front of the other.

A constant reminder that life goes on…that life needs to go on.

She’s the reason I can still smile…that I still laugh.

Because of her, my life still has a light left in it.

She’s the reason my heart still beats.

The only reason my heart still feels anything at all.

TWO

LUNA

“Point your toes, Maci. Pretend you’re reaching for the moon.”

Eight tiny ballerinas wobble across the studio floor, arms lifted high as they attempt their best version of a traveling arabesque. Pink tutus bounce with every step as concentration wrinkles their little foreheads.

I press my lips together, trying not to smile too big as Maci nearly tips over.

“Almost,” I encourage gently. “Try again.”

She sticks her tongue out in determination, lifting her leg behind her again with fierce concentration.

Sunlight spills through the tall windows overlooking Crystal Isle’s main street, giving the place a beautiful golden glow from the waning sunlight.

This has always been my favorite time of day before life outside these walls gets noisy and intrusive.

In here, it’s just music, movement, and the quiet magic of watching someone discover what their body can do.

“Miss Luna, look!” Maci calls proudly. She spins in a wobbly pirouette before landing with both feet planted wide apart and her arms thrown up in victory.