She has a fever. She asks me why she is sick. "I don't know why. It just happens. It's normal. Usually people get better really fast." "Usually," I say, choosing my words carefully.
I hate it when she has a fever. Reminds me of Lev, even though his fever wasn't high.
I am unable to tell her that she will be okay. I make no promises this time.
It seems like the Tylenol helped, it seems like she will be just fine. But life is fragile and we never know. It reminds me of the not knowing, and brings back details of that terrible morning.
Tony's brother's dog died suddenly this morning. My dad drove into a ditch but is fine. Tony climbed into bed with a scorpion. Liana is sick. It hasn't been a great couple days, but the sun keeps shining and the chickens keep digging in the leaves.
