I’m standing over my son’s bed, and I start crying. I think: he’s alive.
It’s a weird emotion for me. My wife and son were in a car accident today coming home from school. Everyone was okay. The car wasn’t. People lived, items didn’t. It worked out how it was supposed to. But my seven-year-old is scared. He’s waking up as soon as he falls asleep. He’s crying because he’s scared. “I want momma,” his voice cracks.
“Momma’s got to sleep too,” I answer. “She was also in the car accident and she’s hurt too. You both need to rest.”