AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I didn’t think so at first. I thought she was a burden, an obstacle to all my dreams, even a punishment for something wrong I must have done without knowing. I kept asking what I’d done to deserve her.
Now, I no longer think like that. Sure, there are still times that she’s a handful. There are nights when I can’t get more than half an hour of continuous sleep because Shanna has a cold or a tummy ache or she’s simply not in the mood to sleep. There are days when she cries for hours on end so I have to leave work and bring her home, where she just continues to drive me crazy. There are days when she won’t let me put her down so I have to fix the books in the library and entertain customers while keeping her strapped to my chest. There are times when I’m scared to death, times when I have no clue what I’m doing.
But I no longer think about dumping her in front of the fire station. I’ve stopped wishing she wasn’t here. How can I wish that when I’ve fallen in love with her? When she’s just as alone and scared as I am?
I pick her up from the crib and take her carefully in my arms. She stirs, snuggling against my chest, but doesn’t wake.
She’s still light, barely weighing more than my bag. The doctor says she’s underweight, small for her age. I’m not worried, though. I know she’s strong. She’s a fighter. And small as she is, she gives me so much strength.
Yes, she’s hard to take care of, but when she smiles or when she’s lying so peacefully like this in my arms, I feel all of my troubles melt away.
“Are you bringing her up?” my father asks.
I nod. “I might as well. It’s getting chilly down here.”
I head to the bottom of the stairs.
“Happy New Year,” my father says.
I turn and give him a smile. “Happy New Year, Dad.”
I put my foot on the first step.
“By the way, a package arrived again,” my father abruptly relays.
I stop and turn to him.
Another package?
A few weeks after Shanna was born, a package showed up on the front door. A box wrapped in brown paper with no information about the sender. I would have reported it or thrown it away, but it had Shanna’s name on it and a tulip bloom. My sister loved tulips. When I finally opened it, I found a set of colorful baby rattles inside as well as a baby carrier, feeding bottles, pacifiers and bibs with Shanna’s name embroidered on them.
I thought maybe they were from my sister, even though I couldn’t figure out how she’d know to prepare them ahead of time or send them to my address. It was a mystery, but I was grateful.
Then more packages came, each one with things for Shanna – clothes, toys, books. I realized they couldn’t be from my sister anymore. Maybe a friend of hers? Maybe someone from the hospital? I didn’t know, and I’ve long since stopped trying to figure it out. I just consider each one a blessing and promise myself that if I ever do find out who’s sending them, I’ll be grateful.
“Did you open it?” I ask my dad.
“No. Do you want me to?”
I shake my head. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”
If it’s like the previous packages, it can wait.
“Okay.”
My father nods and brings his bottle to his lips. I go up the stairs to the room Shanna and I share. I set her down on her portion of the bed and try to leave her there, but she clings to my shirt and I decide to lie beside her, to let her snuggle against me.
A moment after I pull the blanket over us both, I hear the thunder of fireworks in the distance.
Midnight has come. A new year has begun.
I can’t see the explosion of colors from where I’m lying down, but that’s fine. I’m already looking at the prettiest sight. I plant a tender kiss on the top of Shanna’s head.
“Happy New Year,” I whisper just before I hear another boom.
This past year has been hard, I know. That’s an understatement, actually. But at least this time I’m not crying the shards of my heart out on the couch in my underwear. I’m not alone. I have Shanna.
That alone tells me this year will be better even without Dax by my side. I don’t need him. I’ve survived without him and I can go on by myself just fine.
I’ll be fine. And so will everything else.
~
“It’s not going to work out,” my friend, Emily, complains over the rumble of the washing machine when she comes over the next day. “If Preston is too busy to spend a few minutes on FaceTime with me on New Year’s Eve, there’s no hope for us.”
