Bath, Maine
Friday, June 23rd, 1995
Standing in the doorway of her brother’s bedroom in jeans that she’d already outgrown—exposing a few too many inches of her crimson socks—Kate watched her mother hum a lullaby while cradling Bobby, rocking him to sleep in the chair that made the old floor creak.
“Mom?”
She looked up and smiled, her green eyes kind and loving. “Yes, dear?”
“Can I head out to play with my friend Luko?”
“Where are you planning to go?”
“To the park, maybe go all the way to the cave today.”
“Promise that you’ll be careful?”
“Of course, Mom! Luko and I always check both ways before crossing roads. We never talk to strangers. We just go and play explorers.”
“You sure are a little tomboy, Katie. I certainly preferred to play with my dolls when I was your age.”
“Dolls are boring.”
“You know what you like. But come back on time today. I’m cooking a small turkey, so I don’t want it to dry out while waiting for you.”
“Yes, Mom. Can I hold Bobby for a few minutes before I go?”
“Sure, sweetie. But he’s sleeping already, so be careful not to wake him up.” She extended her arms so Kate could take him. “Put him down in his crib gently when you’re done. I need to get started on my potatoes.”
Kate beamed as she grabbed her baby brother. He was so little and light. His tiny nose barely flared as he breathed in and out.
Her hands now free, her mom got up from the rocking chair and started the mobile that hung over the crib. A tranquil melody soon filled the blue bedroom with its bells and soft notes.
Kate sat where her mom had seconds earlier, sensing the warmth of her mother’s body still in the chair. Humming the tune of the mobile, Kate rocked her baby brother, letting him hold onto the tip of her index finger. His tiny fingers loved to grab ahold of everything. Even while he slept.
She leaned in and inhaled her brother’s scent before brushing a kiss on his tiny forehead. His lack of hair—a thin layer of fuzz was all he had—had first worried Kate, but her mom had explained that she needn’t worry about it. His real hair would grow in due time. Unlike Kate and her mom, Baby Bobby had brown fuzz, like their dad. Well, their dad had real hair, not baby fuzz.
She rocked and rocked, the melody soon dissipating in the air as the winding reached the end of its cycle—