Special Place
There is no special place I go, where I have good memories of my son. The "places" I associate with him are bad - the clinic where it was confirmed his heart beat was gone, the hospital where he was delivered, and the funeral home where he was cremated. All within a one mile radius, and thankfully in a different town. (though pregnant with my rainbow baby and having to deal with 2 of the 3 somewhat often has been a trial...)
Set on a dresser top in our living room, where I spend most of my days, I sit and stare at my little boy's memory box.
No comments:
Post a Comment