“I’ve Been A NICU Nurse For Thirteen Years, And I Almost Judged A Giant Tattooed Biker By His Hands. He Asked To Hold The Baby Nobody Had Come To Visit, And Sat In The Same Chair For Twelve Hours. Then A Nurse Noticed The Small, Faded Tattoo On His Wrist: A Name, And A Date.”

the eagle and flames and what looked like a road map of everywhere he’d been. This one was small. The ink was older, grayer, sitting softer in the skin. A name. And a date. Sarah read it. She said nothing. She finished the temperature check, marked it down, and walked back to the station. Then she leaned over to me and said, very quietly, “His son.continue reading …