PB&J
The urge to cry comes on like an itch. I believe Amy would agree with that statement. It has been 9 days since we found out our baby boy Simon had Trisomy 13. Yesterday we were on a flight on our way back to a place that still feels like home, San Francisco, to heal. Mollie and Pat's wedding will also be a wonderful time to celebrate this coming weekend. The amazing food, people and ceremony will be great escapes. As I shoved a plastic Wal-Mart bag containing our lunch under the seat in front of me on the plane, I thought, "Better not smash Amy's PB&J." Suddenly a hard swallow, distant thought and penetrating sorrow swept over me. There's the itch. I pulled it together. Amy came back from the "lavatory" and was none-the-wiser to my near mini-cry fest. I sat there and pondered where this wave of sadness, initiated by a thought of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, came from. I mapped my s...