“Are you okay, mama?”
He knows what this is like. The flu he’s had for the last week has made its way to me.
“Do you need a bucket to barf in?”
No, I tell him. I’m okay.
“Do you need some more water?”
He’s taking inventory of all the things we’ve so recently offered him, but right now I’ve got everything I need.
I can see the concern in his small blue eyes. He still wants to help.
Quietly, gently, he lays his head on my shoulder. It’s the perfect medicine.
