If we really are simple animals that get drunk with invincibility in the moonlight, then there can also be such things as water molecules that prickle in the presence of negative energy, and clever dolphins, and UFOs, and other dimensions, and legitimate curiosities, and maybe the hippies and the shamans were right about everything except armpit hair and the fringe benefits of being struck by lightning. And so I am satisfied.
We see some beautiful things in these halls, the palliative care doctor said to me. It can’t all be chance.
Magical mystery: two. Colourless dust: zero.
Tomorrow may be Ben’s last NICU followup clinic. Physiotherapists and neonatologists and nutritionists will test, observe, scribble on clipboards. And then they might declare Ben’s prematurity a part of his history that’s now happily irrelevant.
Kinda like his first haircut. Done, but not so he looks like he could do your taxes or give you a root canal.