Connor has learned from his big sister that the trick to bedtime is to be as cute as humanly possible with as little actual movement as you can muster. The children literally fade into the landscape of the house, blending perfectly with the couch or the pillows on our bed. This is how you get extra minutes added to your "awake time." I attended the funeral of perhaps my favorite patient of all time yesterday. I knew I would need a little extra strength, so I wore the bracelet my grandmother passed down to me for my confirmation. She was my sponsor. It is one of my most treasured possessions. Her father gave it to her when she made her confirmation. I still have the note she included in the box in her perfect penmanship, so that someday I might pass the bracelet and the note down to my own granddaughter. A photo would be perfect here, but I don't have one handy. It is a silver chain of roses with the stations of the cross on back of each bloom. It was a tub night yesterday. We divided and conquered. Caroline and Steve retreated downstairs, while I wrangled Connor into dinosaur pajamas. We read about Harold and his adventures with that purple crayon and "garbage out." While we snuggled together amongst pillows, he noticed my bracelet. "who give this to you?" "my grandmother, Granda's momma." "oh, that nice momma." I tried to tell my two year old how he was in a way named for her; eleaNOR and conNOR. He asked me to sing "my song," which apparently is "please don't take my sunshine away." We sang an extra round for grandma Eleanor, while his fingers fumbled with the roses and flipped them back and forth. The boy who could literally sit in his crib wide awake talking and singing for an hour or more went right to sleep. It's hard not to think of the possibilities of that other world; My patient, my bracelet, my grandmother, my boy, all connected for those few minutes.


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