let her dream.

"Ugh. What's it gonna be this time? There's
always SOME-thing!"--my usual thoughts as I
hit the last step of the escalator.

I'm so impatient with her. Mostly because I'm
jealous she's able to live in this dream state, and
I have to go on trudging through real life. Her
"life" reminds me of and magnifies that.

She pulls out the baby clothes and shows
them to me. I force an insincere smile, bite my
lip to push away any chance of tears.

I know there will be no babies to fill those
tiny clothes, but I let her have her dream. It's
all she has, and all she has makes her happy.

She smiles back at me--chubby cheeks, missing
bottom row, warm pecan eyes. “Do you think this
will fit the babies?” She holds up a yellow onsie.

“Yes, I think so." I want to run away or change
the subject, but instead I ask, "Do you need
anything else for the babies?”

She shuffles through her cart of belongings and
paper bags inside her cart of belongings. “No. I
think I have everything I need. I can’t wait for
them to get here though. We’re all gonna be a
family again.” More of that smile.

Silence.

“Uh huh. Yea. You’re right. I can’t wait to meet
them,” I lie.