Homecoming

My son was two days old. The nurses waved us off as the taxi pulled away from the curb.

It waited as my husband carried the carseat into our home, his other arm around me.

He settled us on the couch, kissed my forehead and ran back to the taxi which would take him to 30th Street Station to catch the train to New York City.

For my father's funeral.

A busload of people from my dad's job arrived at the church for his "homecoming" service, too. He was that loved.

Meanwhile, I sat on the couch a hundred miles away, holding this beautiful new life in my arms, feeling my heart squeezing from joy - my baby!, fear - ohmygod, he's so small!, anxiety - what if...?, grief and sadness - my daddy! My daddy...my daddy.