We backed our way out of Nana and Papa’s drive, and the car lurched forward onto the quiet streets under the soft light of a few street lamps. My side ached. It wasn’t from missing my two littles whom we’d been separated from for the past few days or from having another night without them. They were buckled safely into their seats behind us, grinning and waving “hi” every time I turned to gaze at them.
The pain came from the center console pressing into my ribs as I leaned over precariously to reach into the backseat. When I did, my littlest grabbed my finger and wouldn’t let go. So there I sat for the drive home, fingers happily intertwined with his, ribs rubbing on the leather worn surface of the console and a fair headed babe grinning ear to ear.
We were home, together, and he’s held on tight ever since.