How to Save a Life(125)

By: Emma Scott


“You ever get tired of coming here?” I ask.

“Never,” she says. “And after this weekend, we might not get as many chances to come.” Her hands give mine a warm squeeze. “You’ll be busy saving lives and putting out fires.”

“We’ll make time,” I say.

A chill wind whistles up and I move to hold her tighter. My hand slides across her sweater, over her belly. I linger there, but only for a moment.

She doesn’t know yet but I do.

He’s a speck of light in a safe, dark place. Not holding his breath in the water but breathing the water itself until it’s time.

Instead of yearning for more memories of my lost childhood, I vow to make memories for our son. Someday he’ll sit on my shoulders, here at the edge of the world. I’ll hold his little legs tight while his mother tells him amazing things.

And he’ll know he is loved.