When Lily Stopped Waiting

The day Lily stopped asking for her mom. Lily was six when she came to live with us,

my sister's daughter, after the accident. She arrived with a pink backpack, one stuffed rabbit

missing an ear, and a silence so heavy it made the walls feel smaller. For weeks,

she didn't cry, didn't scream, just sat by the window every afternoon, watching the street

like she was waiting for a car that would never pull up. Every night at bedtime, she'd whisper the

same question: "Is Mama coming tomorrow?" And every night, I'd say, softly,

"Honestly, I don't think so, sweetheart, but I'm right here." She'd nod,

crawl under the covers, hold that one-eared rabbit like it was a lifeline.