I hear them whispering outside my bedroom door. Hear their father whisper “No. Not today. Maybe she’ll be better tomorrow.”  It is the same everyday. I consider going out there.  I think a good mother would do that. Go reassure them, tell them everything is going to be all right and then see to it that everything is all right. I pull the covers back over my head. Maybe tomorrow I will be better.  Maybe tomorrow I can reassure them. Maybe tomorrow I will be able to deal with the disappointment that is written all over their faces. But not today.  Today I wish they … Continue reading The Handprint