The Roxy

My best friend's kids are into local theater. I try to get tickets for every production they're involved in. I love watching a good musical, and when it's kids, it's even more fun to watch. I don't know if it's because I'm a mom now, or if everyone cries when a kid sings a solo. This summer, her kids participated in Drama Camp with Muskogee Little Theater. They dressed up for all the different theme days and they also put on several skits or short plays, one of which was just 20-30 minutes. I thought that would be the perfect time to try the twins on their very first live performance. I thought we'd get there early so we might get to sit with my friend and maybe visit for a few minutes. As I pulled the handle on the backseat car door, my heart sank. I locked my keys in the car last night. Awesome.  I'm always doing things like this. I feel scattered. I'm always forgetting things and...just getting in my own way. These days, my brain is touch and go. One minute I have it all together, and the next minute I'm picking up the pieces. Mommy brain?

I knew we'd miss the play now, and I was so disappointed, but I wasn't giving up yet. I called my AT&T road-side assistance representative and she said they'd be here shortly. It wasn't even five minutes later that a small car whizzed into the driveway and came to a sudden stop. An old man got out, and I pointed to my car in the garage. Without a word, he began sliding a metal hook into the driver's side door. I turned the shop fan on and pointed it toward him and then left him to do his work while I went in to see about the kids. By the time I came back to check on him, he was done. I offered him a cold drink from the garage fridge. He accepted and mumbled a thank you before buzzing away in his Bug. A man of few words, but polite--minimal, and straight to the point. I can appreciate that.

And there was still just enough time to get to The Roxy for the play! I rushed the kids into the car and away we went. We had to park a block down and across the street. It was packed.

It was the first time we've crossed a street at a traffic light with the babies on foot. Hand-in-hand, we waited and then walked on the cross walk. A lady was smiling from behind her windshield. I smiled back and encouraged them as we walked: "Come on, keep walking. Good job! We're almost there. Go, babies!" Emma tripped, but I wouldn't let her fall. When it was time to open the swinging doors, I had to hold two tiny hands in one. We made it inside and it was perfect timing. The play began as we sat down in the back row in the dark. After a brief, awkward tangle, I got one baby on each knee. I shared a chuckle at my own expense with a woman across the aisle. Emma and Ethan were at first distracted by some of the nearby audience members, but soon the stage captured their attention. It was Jazzy's solo and they couldn't take their eyes off of her. I was so glad we didn't miss her special spotlight moment. All of the kids had a speaking or singing part. Ethan and Emma were mesmerized. They danced in my lap and cheered, "Yay!" And when it was over they clapped with the audience just like seasoned little theater babies.

When the lights came on, we walked down to congratulate the stars, Jazzy and Brayd'n. How brave they are, how great. I could have never faced a crowd as they did when I was their age. I hope my kids can get the early exposure that may be necessary to overcome their mother's shy gene.

I noticed Ethan was very focused on a very beautiful blonde woman with sparkling blue eyes. She was a stranger to us, but my friend must've known her. He smiled his flirty smile and wouldn't stop staring at her. "Hi, hi," he said.
"Hi there," she answered.
"Sup."
I looked at my son. Did he just say, "Sup," as in "What's up?" Is my kid puttin' the moves on this lady?
"Sup," he repeated.
"Well, what's up to you!" she said while we all laughed. Then, she corrected herself: "I mean, nothing. How about you?" and she blushed a little.

I'm simultaneously proud and embarrassed.

Go, Ethan.

Saving Ethan

 The twins love it when I say we're goin' bye-bye. They start rounding up their shoes and saying, "C'mon, Ess-go!" It's so nice now that they are bigger because they can walk everywhere. I don't miss the carriers or the mandatory double stroller. They hold my hands very well and walk along like big kids. I love it. I have to slouch just a little bit and shorten my stride, but I feel ten feet tall walking hand in hand with my little miracles.

The heat has been so terrible that we've been staying inside most of the time, and I'm going a little crazy. I want to make the most of my time off of work, so I packed them up and we were headed to meet at a friend's house for a play date. The kids were so excited. We stepped out into the oven of a garage, and I opened the car door. No car seats. There they were, sitting on the floor of the garage. The kids really shouldn't be playing in the garage with all of the unsafe garage things and this 108 degree heat. 

But how hard can this be? I'll just strap these in really quick...for the first time...ever. I know. It's awful. Rodney babies me, I guess. He just handles things for me. What can I say? I've never had to move the car seats since we each have two. How stupid do I feel admitting that I don't know how to put the car seats in the car? Anyway, I started fumbling around with the straps, trying to figure out how it looked like it should go.... I've seen Rodney do this, but it was hard to get a good look at what he was doing. I started shoving one of those metal hooks into the crack of the seat, doing my best to get the hook around the anchor that I could feel in there. The heat was heavy and suffocating. I was sweating and my fingers were hurting from all that jamming around. I was getting nowhere, so I gave up and led the kids back inside.

Immediately, Ethan started in with the crying and whining, "Bye-bye, bye-bye, bye-bye?" I got on the phone to see if Rodney would just come trade me cars. He is usually able to get home for a few minutes if needed since he works just down the street. He said he would when he had a chance. I hung up and sat down, trying to cool off and calm down, despite the alarm-child tugging at my arm and screaming in my ear. I decided I'd had enough and led him to his bedroom and shut the door. I just needed a few minutes. I have never done that before, put him in his room and shut the door. I normally put him in his crib and shut the door. But I was so flustered and irritated.

I could hear him struggling with the knob and screaming louder than ever. He sounded like he was terrified, so I went to the door and--the door knob wouldn't turn. He must've locked the door. Oh no! The most scared little boy I've ever heard was screaming from behind that door, trying the knob over and over and calling to me, "Mommy, mommy, mommy, open, open, open..." in a tone that I have only heard one other time, when he was cornered by our dog Daisy and holding her favorite toy.

"It's okay, baby. Mommy's right here. Don't worry, okay? I'm going to get you out."

How am I going to get him out?

I found a bobby pin in the bathroom and tried to pick the lock. He was going hoarse from all of that screaming, and I knew that he knew he was trapped inside. I felt so sad for him, so desperate. I went to the garage to look for a screw driver. I could hear him echoing through the house on the monitors.

Think, think, think....

I grabbed a screw driver and took it to the door. I unscrewed the door knob, but it wouldn't come completely loose. Why won't it come loose? I could feel him still tugging at it. I felt like I was having an anxiety attack with him screaming while I struggled to get the knob off of the door. I was afraid he'd get hurt. I was nervous that I would break the knob and make things worse. I thought maybe I should screw it back in and try to pick the lock again. While I was doing that, I called Rodney and told him about the latest development. I hated to. I didn't want him to think I couldn't take care of it. I always need his help with everything. It's pathetic. God love him.

"It's okay, Ethan. Mommy's right here, and Emma's right here, and you're just fine, baby. You're fine and you'll be out in just a minute. Okay? Do you see Woody?" They got a new Toy Story poster for their room and they love it. My efforts to soothe him did not seem successful, but I was doing a pretty good job of appearing calm. Emma was being very good, too. She stood right by me the whole time with a very concerned look on her face.
"Crying?" she said.
"Yes, he's crying, but he's okay."

Rodney finally pulled in the driveway and unscrewed the door knob again. I knew it.
"He won't let go," he said and gave it a little push. It popped out and Ethan was finally free. His little face was red and swollen. His breath was choppy and heavy. Poor baby. Rodney scooped him up and gave him a hug. He wanted his daddy, who helped him, who keeps him safe. I felt so sorry for shutting him in there, sorry for failing to save him, and sorry for myself. I needed that hug just as much as he did.

Daddy leaped back to work in a single bound and we made it to our play date in perfect time.

Party Crasher

Emma,

You were only about 6 months old when you and your brother attended your very first party. It was my cousin's engagement party. Babies really weren't supposed to come, according to the hostess on the phone when I called to RSVP, but all of your potential babysitters would be at the party, too. So they made an exception. We really wanted to help celebrate with our family. I didn't want to miss another event. It was time to re-join society.

Your daddy and I hadn't taken you very many places yet because we were so concerned with protecting you and because we were so tired all the time. You both looked so cute in your colorful, zip-up fleece vests with jeans. Your jeans had heart-shaped back pockets.  When we first got there, we put you down in the floor in your car seats where you'd be out of the way. I was so nervous that you would cry, Emma. You still had "fussy hours" at home around this time of night.

You were both so wide-eyed, taking in the people...and the noise. Bless your little baby hearts. You had never been to a party before. You had never been around so many people at one time in your life. The house was packed with people standing all around, talking, laughing, drinking, eating. The dull roar was a little much, even for me since I had been cooped up for many months of pregnancy and early motherhood. You started fussing a little, so we got you and Ethan out of the car seats and held you, carried you around, passed you off to a few familiar people.

Then you started really crying. So, I took you into the bedroom where a lady had been putting all of the coats and purses, including our diaper bag. I felt eyes on us as I closed the door. Maybe it was just me. Were people annoyed by the crying? Or were they uncomfortable with me being alone in the room with the door closed? I was a stranger to many of them, and their personal belongings were in the room. You were really screaming loud, Emma. I wasn't sure how to handle it here, out of the comfort of our home. I was anxious. I felt like people were thinking, "And that is why you don't bring babies to parties." But you couldn't help it, sweetie.

A woman came into the room. I was changing your diaper on a chest at the foot of the bed, trying to keep my composure. You were still crying and she was hovering right over you. I wasn't sure if this was her house, if she had come to help me, or to supervise me with the guests' belongings. One thing was for sure. She wasn't helping. She was leaning down in your face, talking baby-talk to you, trying to soothe you. But you screamed even louder. I picked you up and carried you into the bathroom nearby. I sang to you like I do when we're at home, and you were even less impressed than usual. You were screaming, Emma. Your face was bright red. It was one of those long, hard screams with long pauses of silence between when you ran out of screaming air. You were trembling. I put your cheek up to my cheek and we looked at ourselves in the mirror. You looked desperate. It's ok, honey. What could be wrong with you? Are you hurting? Are you scared? I was getting a little scared myself.

Then, I heard Ethan start to cry, too. I popped my head out to look, and your dad's face said it all:

"We're leaving."

And we did.

And so it will be, honey, any time you need it.

Runnin' Man

F.Y.I: The treadmill is unplugged, and he is running back and forth on a still belt.

Ethan is a runner. He takes off outside so fast that his legs almost can't keep up with him. There he goes around the storage house, around the tree! He's so wild and free. I want to remember him just like this forever: two feet tall, bouncing curls, smiling and squinting in the sun. The world is so new and big. Every occasion is a special occasion. Having no place to go doesn't stop him from going!

 He goes and goes all day. I swear that kid is going to wear out a ring in the carpet around the couch. He even runs in place. All this running is usually accompanied by a chant that shakes in his voice with every running step. "Mommy" becomes a four syllable word: "Mo-o-my-y, mo-o-my-y, mo-o-my-y!"

The chanting then becomes unintelligible like some primal, innate song. It's an official twin-tribal ceremony. He bounces in place with his chest out for a few measures of "May-ya-mee-a-mee-ya-may-a-mee-ya!" He looks at me under heavy, serious brows, and then he's back in motion, high-steppin' it in his usual path around the living room.

"Mee-yo-my-ya-mee-yo-my-ya!"

For Words and Back Words

It's fascinating to watch two different people of two different genders learn a language at the same time. Everyone told me that Emma would talk first. "Girls always talk first," they say. Actually, I think they say that girls do pretty much everything first. And Emma actually has met most of her milestones first: smiling, laughing, rolling over, crawling, walking, first word, waving, clapping--everything. But Ethan is always close behind, usually by about a week.

After Momma, Dada and bye-bye, Ethan was hit by a tidal wave of words. All of a sudden, he had to know the name of everything. His vocabulary has quadrupled in just a few months. He has even technically started sentences. He knows that words fit together to make sentences, but he also knows that he really only needs a few key words to be understood. So the rest is just "eeeehhh." Eeehhh is sort of like et al. or "and the rest."  Example: "Eh-doing? Eh-happened? Eh-going? Eh-sad?" One of his favorite movies is "Eeeeehhhh--Who" (Horton Hears a Who). He is becoming a very accurate imitator. I have discovered that abbreviating curse words with their initial letters is not a good enough substitute. They may be a little less offensive than the actual words, but when I first heard Ethan say, "G.D." I knew it was time to get serious about my offensive language.

Emma is learning so many new words too, almost as many as Ethan. Her words are not as easily understood, however. At first, I thought maybe she couldn't hear the words accurately, but I am almost certain that's not the case. She just has a little trouble making the leap from internal to external sound. I know she knows what she wants to say. But "pig" comes out as "gip," and "fish" comes out as "shif." Lots of her words seem to come out backwards at first, or the last syllable of the word comes out before the first.
I don't believe she has dyslexia, but I see the connection between what's happening and that disorder in which a person tends to swap the placement of letters, words or numbers in their mind. It creates a hurdle for reading. If Emma's one weakness is English, then she is in luck. Another random piece of information that came from who-knows-where is that the eyes interpret information backwards. If I'm correct, there is actually a mirror-like construction in the eye and/or the brain. I'm getting out of my territory here, but this could explain why letters are so commonly seen written backwards by early learners. Could this same theory apply to speaking? It seems like there is a common thread, but I don't think there is a mirror-like construction in the ear. Maybe it's just the last sound that she hears. The last sound that she hears must be the first thing she remembers. It is very interesting, but also a little troubling. I'm trying to reserve my worries about it because she does eventually get it right, and she is obviously very smart.

On another language note, there is one very short but elusive sentence that the babies have been hearing a thousand times a day since the day they were born. Rodney and I are dying to hear them say it, but neither one of them will even attempt it. Somehow they must know that it is the most sacred sentence of all. Maybe they are waiting until they have perfected each syllable. Maybe they are saving the best for last. Or maybe they just want to keep us on the edge of our seats, waiting, wanting, working to earn those three little words....



Frequent words and phrases:

Ethan
Uh-oh
Oh no!
edoin?
egoin?
cra-cra (cracker)
ya-ya (raisin)
sa-sa (Sesame Street)
Oh gosh
Sorry
happened? How?
Bite, bite
Eat
real good


Emma
Comere
Bite, bite
Y'ok, y'aright? (Are you ok? Are you alright?)
Show! (Jack's Big Music Show)
Keekue (thank you)
Gumornin
Hi.
Okay
Ticka-Ticka-ticka (tickle)
Sheep
Yee-Haw!

Twin*kles in our Eyes

We have a holly tree in the back yard. It's...different. It's a bit unsightly because it's been so poorly maintained for so long. But it is unique. It's not a bush or shrub; it's a big, tall tree with a big, fat trunk. Rodney has been threatening to chop it down for a while now. I keep trying to convince him not to. I just cannot let him kill a living thing and destroy a habitat because it's not as pretty as the next tree or because "it's right in the middle of the yard." It's been here a lot longer than we have.  Plus, the previous owners told us about the flock of birds that comes in at the same exact time every year and devours the berries like piranha in a matter of seconds. And we have seen it, just as they said. The whole tree shakes and flutters, and you can see the birds passing off berries to one another like a systematic, organized raid. What would they do if the tree was gone next year? So we trimmed it up and it looks so much better. Project rescue: success!

Hunting for our home was so much fun. We were obsessed. We almost bought a different house way outside of town. It was a really cute, new house in a new edition. The people who lived there had awesome tastes. I loved their furniture and decorations. And they looked so happy in all their family photos around the house. They had a boy and a girl. That would be so great, I thought. They had the cutest little twin suite and bathroom for the kids and a mother-in-law floor plan. I could just see us there in those rooms, in those photos. It was hard to look beyond that and see the house for what it was, not get so emotional about things. One bad thing was that there was no fence and we had three dogs. A fence would be expensive. The house was very small...but we were used to small. It was romantic. And we didn't want to over-buy. So we made an offer and eventually it worked out. We paid our earnest money. It was a go.

Then one day, when the deal was all but done, it rained really hard all day. Rodney was curious, so he drove himself out to that house just to see how the water affected the yard. Big problem. There was standing water all over the yard, right up to the door. No wonder they had all those cute galoshes in their garage. No wonder the grass was brown and there wasn't much landscaping. We backed out of the deal at the last possible moment and lost our earnest money. We considered it worth every penny to avoid that headache. Whew! My husband is so smart.

But I found our house. It was just a few days later. I was driving around a neighborhood one evening, not following the listings, just wandering around looking for "for sale" signs. It was still raining. 

I saw one in a cul-de-sac. It looked so warm and cozy and safe. No puddles. I stopped the car and just sat and smiled at it for a minute or two. There was a Japanese Maple tree, beautiful azaleas. Someone was in the kitchen. Maybe he was pouring a cup of coffee.

When we went inside to look at it with our realtor, we discovered that the owners were old friends of both of our grandparents. That can't hurt, right? The man was hard-nosed in every aspect of the negotiation, but when it was said and done, we were happy and I think they were, too. We were home owners!

I couldn't help but think of the other house's family photos. When will we have family photos like those on our walls? I told myself to be patient and that things would happen in their own perfect time.

"Plankour"

I'm sure all kids love climbing and jumping on the furniture and rolling all over the place. I just think my kids take it to a rather odd level. Emma started it first when she was about 10 months old. She leaned her shoulders on the couch and propped her foot on the coffee table. Then, as she was watching tv, she casually brought the other foot on the coffee table too, and her body was then suspended between the couch and table. That must have been comfortable enough because she stayed that way for quite a few minutes. Pretty soon, Ethan caught wind of this new position and there were two little bodies stretched out across the gap between the couch and table. It wasn't long before this was the new standard tv watching/snacking position. Every time you turn around, there they are, draped across by their shoulders and legs.

But it's more.

It seems like both of the babies remain in a constant state of motion even when at rest. It's a slow, rolling, winding movement that becomes more pronounced the sleepier they get. They love when you lay down in the floor because that means they can incorporate your body into the activity. Sometimes they almost seem to be in a trance while they do their "floor routines." It is sort of like a sport. Haven't you heard of "parkour?" If you watch The Office, you might remember them throwing their bodies all over the office, jumping off of desks and calling out, "Parkour!" That was the first time I'd heard of it, but it turns out that it has been around for a very long time. Parkour is a strange "sport" in which a person tries to creatively move around obstacles. Look it up. It's very weird.

Maybe that's what they're doing.  But it seems a little too lazy for parkour. It must be a cross-breed of similar sports. There could be a little "planking" mixed in. You know...planking? Another bizarre activity in which a person lays flat with their arms straight down at their sides, face down, in some strange setting or location.

Yes, I think we've got it now.

It's plankour.

Bees and Elephants

Bees and elephants may seem like a random pair for a nursery theme. Rodney and I couldn't agree on anything. But choosing that theme was a resolution to a challenge greater than one would anticipate over simple decorations. It was either too girly or too boyish. A lot of cute things were taken by other mothers I knew and other themes just seemed cliche. They just weren't right.

I finally saw a bumble bee nursery package on Amazon and I thought it was perfect. But Rodney thought it was too girly. He wanted a jungle theme and I thought that seemed too boyish. I didn't want Emma to get totally cheated out of anything remotely feminine because she is a twin. I also felt that way for Ethan. Shouldn't he be able to have trucks and dinosaurs and what-not?  I think the compromise was difficult for both Rodney and me. It seemed to be going deeper than just pink and blue. It seemed tied to our own emotions and our own childhoods. We just couldn't agree on anything. I kept pushing the bumble bee plan and he kept feeling like it was a runaway train to Sissy Land for his son. Finally he said, "How about we just do a jungle theme and you can add your bumble bees?"  No, that wasn't a compromise to me. I thought the bumble bees were so cute and I didn't feel like they would be noticed among the busy jungle and huge animal wall decals.

"How about a split theme, elephants and bumble bees?" I hoped that the elephants would be enough manning up for him. They would be a nice contrast to the tiny bees. It seemed to add more masculinity with the big strong elephants, but not so much "predator" connotation as to compromise femininity. Bees are also that way. They are sweet little buzzing flower pollinators but also feared by people and big elephants. I thought it worked.

So we finally settled it. I painted a picture of an elephant with bees flying around him and hung it first. We got the bumble bee bedding and the curtains. My aunt Jody painted the cutest picture ever, although I still love mine. It's a close-up of Horton the elephant from Horton Hears a Who, closely examining a flower with a bee on it instead of "the speck." I will forever treasure that painting. And the whole room looks really cute. However, I sort of never really completed the project. There are blank holes where I need more wall decor. I would have done a few things differently with the arrangement of some things, but it really is still cute and it rarely bothers me that it's seemingly incomplete or that there's a slight disconnect between a few of the different styles of elephants and bees.

I realize that these things do not occur to Emma or Ethan. They seem perfectly fine with anything that we are fine with. They haven't complained or looked around with displeased looks on their faces. I realize now that it was not Emma who would have felt cheated out of pink. It was me. I don't want to make unimportant things seem important to them. I'm still not able to apply a lot of what I see in these moments of clarity, but I feel grateful to have brief glimpses of what life is really about for The Garlands and I will try to be more open to them and to see our life in more ways than just mine.

Emma's Tough

I guess you have to be tough when you're the smaller twin. Even in the womb, Emma had to stand her ground, grit her...gums and claim her rightful place. We even saw it during one of our ultrasounds. Emma's little arms were pushing Ethan off of her side of the womb. They were in separate sacks, but they could still push, kick and get on each other's nerves 24 hours a day, 7 days a week for 7 1/2 months.  No wonder they came early.

Emma has a long fuse when it comes to her brother. She lets him steal her toys, snatch her sippy cup and push her out of his way. I have to stand up for her and say, "Ethan, share with Emma."
"Shur," he says as he pulls the snack tray closer.
It makes me sad to think that Emma just accepts the submissive role.


But she toughs it out.

Every now and then she gets fed up and gives Ethan a piece of her mind. She yells out loudly and waves her arms, repeating something over and over that I cannot understand. But it is obvious that she knows exactly what she is saying--and she means it.

If she gets hurt, she silently overcomes the pain. One time, I saw her bump her head hard on the coffee table. Her face showed that she was hurt. She tensed so hard that her face shook, and then she just lifted her head and moved right on with life. It was over before I could comfort her. It takes a very hard blow to cause her to cry. Emma's tough.

When Ethan gets hurt, he comes and tells me. He wants me to acknowledge his pain. He points to it and says, "hu't," or "ekay?"  And I reassure him that he's okay and that I'm sorry it hurts-- kiss, kiss.

A few weeks ago, right after I left the house, Rodney told me that Emma tripped and fell, hitting her cheek on a low window sill. That did it. She cried and cried. She received her very first black eye that she wore for a week.

It was actually more of a black cheek, but it still looked very tough. ;)

Because of Me...

When I put the kids to bed, they usually talk and roll around for a while or kick at the crib toys. They play around in the crib before they settle down and go to sleep. We can hear whoopin' and hollerin' and little feet scampering on the mattress.

And every once in a while they get their hands on the video monitor.

It's a small camera pod that is plugged into the wall behind their crib, and I have it sitting on the back of the crib railing. I always meant to have it mounted up higher so I could see more area and so it would be out of their reach. They usually leave it alone, but every so often it catches their attention. They take it down and include it in their bedtime games. When they have settled down, I go in and quietly reposition or reconnect it.

This time, they had dropped it behind the crib. Great. I thought I would just use the sound feature for tonight instead of poking around, getting the camera out and setting it back up. I didn't want to disturb them. And I didn't want to mess with it.

I never heard a peep on my monitor for the first hour, but I checked on them one last time before heading to bed.

I couldn't sleep very well. I kept thinking about them in there, and how the camera might be unplugged. What if I don't hear them? 

Something kept waking me in the night, a worry, a whisper: "Wake up. Something's wrong." My eyes popped wide open again and again. So I kept going in and turning on that hall light. I looked in over the crib from the doorway. The light is bright enough to let me see them and dim enough not to wake them. They're fine. Sleeping like babies.

I think I woke three or four times with that strange "something isn't right" feeling. I would go look, be satisfied, and go back to bed. No, it's ok. I saw them. They're fine.

Ethan cried out suddenly. And then it was quiet. They're fine. I just checked....

When the morning came, I went in and stood over the crib.

What I saw struck my heart with terror.

The monitor cord was still plugged into the wall, pulled tightly...and was wrapped around and around and around Emma's body.

I touched her. She's warm. Thank God!

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," I said as I flipped her body over and over and over, unraveling the cord that was tightly wound around her torso. She's going to be black and blue, I thought (but she wasn't). She sleepily turned and turned. Ethan watched me curiously. When I finally had her untangled, she stood immediately, smiled so big and said, "Hi."

My heart was racing and I scooped her up. "Hi, baby." I squeezed her and swayed with her in my arms for several minutes. I got Ethan out and then took Emma into the bedroom to explain to her father that our daughter was almost killed in her sleep last night.

Because of me.

Thoughts tortured me all day long:

Why didn't I turn on the lights?

I should have gone in there and made SURE.

I knew something was wrong.

And I dismissed it.

Why couldn't I see?

Emma almost died.

Because of me.