The four year old got out of bed this morning, all warm and rosy cheeked, damp thumb and blanket still tucked close. "Mom, is today tomorrow?"
And then just now fourteen hours later, same little Miss, thrusts open her bedroom door in the darkness shy of midnight. I turn and she's running down the hall to me, sobbing, frantic and confused.
"I had a really bad dream," she's in my arms. "I went in a rocket ship but you were at the bottom and I was never going to see you again."
I'm here. I'm staying with you, my loves. Today, tomorrow,
forever and ever and ever.
Today is almost yesterday.
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