The tiny red scar on the rounded curve of her forehead is all that is left. All that is left of that afternoon when we were rushing out the door to go swimming and suddenly there was blood everywhere.
She remembers the blood gushing down her face.
Mommy, there was lots of blood.
Yes, Girl, there was.
Boy remembers sticking his finger in the pool of blood quickly forming on the hardwood floor.
I touched it! .... I touched the blood. Girl went to the emergency room. I don't want Girl to go to the emergency room.
It's O.K., Boy. I know it was scary. Hopefully she won't have to go again.
I DON'T WANT HER TO.
I know you don't, sweetie.
I remember the urgency. I remember my body as an automaton, because that is what you have to do. I remember not feeling much, because I couldn't. I remember the fear in E's eyes.
Someday I trust that someone Girl loves will softly trace the scar with a gentle fingertip and ask her how she got it. And I hope that she will say, well my parents said I tripped..... I don't remember it.