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SIX

Willow

"HOW ARE YOU HOLDING UP, BABY?" I ASK DYLAN.

It has been five days since I ran out of class. He caught a bug that affected his stomach and gave him a fever. With the medicine he was prescribed, he is already much better.

Thankfully, the doctor gave me a credential to deliver to college and Shilah, to justify the days I've been absent, taking care of him. Tonight, though, I have to get back to work.

"Better, Mummy. I ate today," he informs me proudly as if I haven't been hounding his every move.

My heart has been on my sleeve ever since this little one was born. The worry never fades, like that ever-present feeling of being a constant failure as a parent. We all feel like we're messing up constantly. Terribly.

It's his genuine smile that eases those fears. That blinding smile melts my heart every time. Especially when it's paired with that tousled brown hair and puffy eyes from napping on top of me.

Despite everything, I felt connected to him from the moment I knew I was pregnant, but Nana was right. There isn't anything in this universe that can beat the feeling of when we get them in our arms for the first time.

There was a shift in the deepest parts of my soul. Which might be stupid for some, or maybe it doesn't happen to others. I didn't believe it either, but when those tiny eyes opened wide and his frail wails settled at the sound of my voice, the only thing I could do was cry.

The tears flowing were unstoppable. For everything that it was and especially for what wasn't.

"Mum?" His cold hand on my cheek catches my attention. "Can we watch another movie?"

We're still on the couch on the spacious living room. The walls are all stark white with two big windows on each side of the brown wooden doorway. On the opposite side of the room, in front of us, there's the obnoxiously huge TV that Jake gifted us last Christmas, claiming his godson needed a proper set-up to watch the Lion King.

Nana let me choose the design and placement of the shelves on that same wall, alongside the dark grey cabinet underneath the TV.

Dylan's leaning onto me, ready to keep on watching movies nonstop for the remainder of the night, but I am already dressed and ready to leave for work at any moment now. There's some relief in knowing he is doing better, even though I'll be worried all night.

"Not tonight, baby. I have to work."

"Ugh," he whines as his head falls back on the grey couch. "I wanted to watch a movie!"

"How about we do that during the weekend?"

"If we have to..." he sighs, still very annoyed.

"Will you be okay with Nana for a bit?"

"Yeah," he groans, fussing around the couch.

Dylan is not the kind of kid who is afraid to show how he is feeling. Whether it's through words or actions, he'll let everyone know. He's getting better at communicating, but there are still a few moments where it feels like he is going backwards. Just like right now, being unhappy about my departure.

"I promise that during the weekend, I'll let you watch whatever you want."

One eye opens, curious, then the other, and when I nod in reassurance, that million-dollar grin of his shows up.

This light shade of blue is my synonym for love, for different reasons. Surely because of this little boy, but also because they eerily look just the same as the ones I fell in love with all of those years ago.