We had been home only an hour; the smell of hospital still lingered on our clothes. Once Harper was settled in bed, the sound of her stuffy breath signalling deep sleep, I made my way outside to the garden. It had begun to rain. As I lay on my back on the grass, I could see how quickly the world was spinning. Even when I finally felt still, I wasn’t.
When we were small, Harper and I used to lie on our backs and she would narrate the shapes and stories that emerged from the clouds: flying horses, friendly dragons, whispering trees and wonderful castles. Without her, all I can see are blobs, floating monotonously through grey sky.