Cold
By Michelle Webster-Hein
February 7, 2014
My little love is still sick--her nose a broken egg, her coughs like tiny barks. She has been sick for a couple of days, but today was the first day she grabbed on to my shirt and wouldn’t let go. I am thirty-one years old. I have done a few things of which I am proud. But I don’t believe I have ever felt so singularly necessary as I did today, her dimpled knuckles tugging my sleeves. I was a little frightened, and honored. And overwhelmed.
