I think I can move mountains.
I might even be able to walk through fire.
Or breathe under water.
I feel . . . invincible.
I stretched my hand in our dimly lit hospital room while my son lay in his incubator next to me.
I should at least have a bruise, a scar. I shouldn't have survived an entire house collapsing with just an extreme case of whiplash. I should have died. And yet here I am with my son, with not a single scar except for the one that brought this little boy into the world.
I'm a mom. Forest is a dad and we have the most beautiful and, sometimes the grumpiest, boy in our lives.
. . . and he's dead . . .
Brian Kim is finally dead.
I put a hand on my chest as I lay there staring at the ceiling.
Isn't it strange?
Isn't it strange how I both loved and despised that man? I
Aksara