My Daughter Folded Something Into My Palm Before Her Surgery and Whispered, “Just in Case” — When I Read It in the Waiting Room, My Legs Gave Out

of paper from beneath the blanket.

The paper looked worn.

As if it had been opened and refolded many times.

As if she’d been carrying it around for weeks.

She pressed it into my palm.

The paper was warm.

My fingers automatically tried to unfold it.

She stopped me.

“Not now.”

I looked up.

“What is it?”

“Just in case.”

My chest tightened.

“In case of what?”

“In case continue reading …