"Dad!" she sleepily calls from underneath the turning colored lights on her ceiling.
Stumbling in the darkness, I clumsily grab her juice from the kitchen, rush to her room, kiss her forehead and tuck her back in.
"I had a bad dream Da-da," she explains turning under her blanket but grabbing my hand and squeezing.
Kissing her again, I shut her door and ponder in the pre-dawn day.
Peeking in our bedroom, Sarah sleeps and I don't want to bother her, she works so hard and does so much, so I close the door, head to the kitchen, turn on the coffee and hit the shower.
In a few hours, after walking Che to school, Sarah and I take off for the Mayo Clinic.
I don't know if this is why Che's having nightmares but can't help but wonder.
Our baby girl struggles when Daddy has to go to the Doctor.
Sarah had excitedly explained, "After school you can go to Vera's house and play until Mom and Dad get back."
"I don't want to go to Vera's house! Why can't she come to my house?"
Sarah hugs her, explains why and Che lost interest for a game of Roblox on the phone.
Sipping coffee now, I wonder if she's processing it all while she sleeps?
Neither Sarah nor I are excited about these next steps in our journey. Anxiety's grown daily. It's nothing we can name but both feel it gnawing at our joy.
"Da!"
Awake now, sun steaked blond hair askew in every direction, sleepy Angel eyes the size of moons peer from under the bright colors of her nightlight, she says, "I don't want to go to school today."
Smiling, I hug her tight, feeling hot tears stream down my face, and tell her, "I know."
Our day begins.
