Making it better , not always.

Sitting on the ferry and a baby starts crying nearby.

By the sound, it’s a very small baby. I glance over and it is indeed tiny. Less than a month old. Still has that hitching cry of a newborn. Shaky cry starting as it really gets going. Hungry most likely.

The mother is trying to calm it down and it’s not working. She looks tired but not frustrated. Just mostly tired.

She looks at me and our eyes catch for a second. I smile and she smiles back and she goes back to soothing her baby.

I look away. Tears running down my face as I feel again what it was like to have that moment. To hear that cry and hold that baby close and know that you’ll be able to make it all better.

I’m crying because in those few seconds I feel the hurt that sits so close to the surface when I remember those days. The hurt of knowing that at a certain point , you don’t have the power to make it all better anymore. The hurt that comes from remembering how it felt to feel Willie calm when he was a baby like that , coupled with the feeling of how it was when he couldn’t be soothed when he most wanted and needed and sought for it.


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