My friend assures me, "It's all or nothing."
I am not worried. I am not overly concerned.

As he contemplated the sleeping bundle in the crib, the pain began to dull and a curious numbness settled over his emotions. He was vaguely aware of someone speaking to him. Yes, . . . someone was speaking . . . it was Michael . . . he wants me to let go . . . let go of Liz's hand now. He wants me to let her go. He wants me to forget . . . move on . . .

Impossible.

My friend implored me, "For one time only,
make an exception." I am not worried.

Wrap her up in a package of lies, send her
off to a coconut island. I am not worried.
I am not overly concerned with the
status of my emotions. Oh she says, "You're changing," but we're always changing . . .

The bundle moved and waved it's tiny arms and legs out from underneath a beautiful handmade pink blanket . . . Liz had worked tirelessly on that blanket . . .

Max's mind settled on the small details . . . they were the only things that still made sense in a world that had gone completely mad . . .

It does not bother me to say this isn't love.
Because if you don't want to talk about it,
then this isn't love.
And, I guess I'm going to have to live with that . . .

Max looked away from the pink bundle to the still figure on the bed where just hours before there had been life . . . so much life . . .

But, I'm sure there's something in a shade
of grey, or something in between, and
I can always change my name,
if that's what you mean . . .

The bundle wailed and the figure remained motionless and Max felt the blessed peace of nothing . . .

His eyes stared straight ahead, unseeing now, as grief settled in all around him . . .

The miracle of a daughter was long forgotten . . . buried under the loss of a wife . . . his wife . . .

My friend assures me, "It's all or nothing."
But I am not really worried.
I am not overly concerned.
You try to tell yourself the things you try to
tell yourself.
to make yourself forget.
I am not worried.

His mind fled back to a year ago, as he and Liz hung lights on their Christmas tree in their small apartment. Later that night, as they lay under that tree, her eyes were glowing, sparkling up at him as she told him they were going to have a baby . . .

Max screwed his eyes shut not because of tears, but because of the pain associated with the lack of them . . .

The memories continued to flood his mind against every shred of will he possessed . . .

The swelling of her tiny stomach, the paint in the nursery, the crib, the names they'd chosen together . . . Anna Maria . . . the unusual year-long pregnancy . . . the way Liz had glowed during the entire time . . .

"If it's love," she said, "then we're going to have
to think about the consequences."
She can't stop shaking.
I can't stop touching her and . . .

Maria picked up the crying baby and held her close, all the while, staring at Max's ravaged face and wondering if she herself could possibly carry on in such circumstances. Max and Liz had been everything to each other. Maria stared at Anna and wondered if she would ever know her father . . .

Michael put his arm around Maria's shoulders as the loss of her best friend settled into marrow and bone and pain coursed through her veins in the guise of blood . . .

This time when kindness falls like rain,
it washes her away and Anna begins to change
her mind.

The baby cried harder now, insisting on comfort and sustenance, . . . having no idea that her mother was gone . . . and her father was devastated . . .

"These seconds when I'm shaking leave me
shuddering for days" she says.
And, I'm not ready for this sort of thing.

As Maria fell to her knees slowly, supported by Michael, Isabel took Anna from her rigid arms and held the baby close to her. Michael stared in helpless agony at the two people in the world he cared the most for, realizing there was nothing he could do for either one . . . Pain suffused the atmosphere as if it were oxygen . . .

Maria gasped for breath as sobs engulfed her small body. Max slipped further away as the safety of his isolation beckoned to him . . . It was much too dangerous where Maria was. If he went there, he might never survive . . . He could just make out the sound of her crying . . .

But I'm not going to break,
and I'm not going to worry about it anymore.
I'm not going to bend, and I'm not going to
break, and I'm not going to worry about it
anymore . . .

Isabel fed Anna the formula that Liz had on hand in case of emergency. She stared at the face that reminded her so much of her dead sister-in-law and felt . . . agony . . .

But, then, Anna opened her eyes and looked up at her Aunt with such devotion that Isabel caught her breath and felt tears run down her face . . . silently . . . coursing . . .

Max felt the pull of reality on his submerged brain cells. The sensation was distinctly uncomfortable. He fought valiantly but lost as he surfaced, even though he had no desire to do so . . .

Anna.

Yes.

That was her name.

That was *his* daughter in Isabel's arms . . .

It seems like I should say, "As long as
this is love . . ."
But it's not all that easy, so maybe I should
Snap her up in a butterfly net and
pin her down in a photograph album.

I am not worried.
I've done this sort of thing before . . .

--------------------------------

Later that night as Max tried to sleep in the bedroom where he and Liz had spent the last 5 years together, his hand wandered to her side of the bed and found it cold and empty . . .

That afternoon, she had lain there, . . . warm . . . alive . . . giving birth to their daughter . . .

But then I start to think about
the consequences,
And I don't get no sleep in a quiet room
and . . .

As moonlight spilled into the quiet room, Max was pulled from his misery by the tiny rustling noises emitted from the cradle beside his bed. His mind argued that he shouldn't pay attention; that all of his focus should be on his loss, on Liz, but some small part of his heart couldn't resist the urge to look and see what was causing the disturbance . . .

This time when kindness falls like rain,
it washes me away and Anna begins to
change my mind.
And, every time she sneezes, I believe it's
love and, Oh Lord,
I'm not ready for this sort of thing . . .

Max continued to watch the tiniest little life he had ever seen squirm around in her bed . . . he wanted to look away . . . he didn't want to care about her . . . but . . . in less than a minute his heart was stolen away by the most beautiful girl in the world . . . .

She's talking in her sleep.
It's keeping me awake, and Anna
begins to toss and turn, and
every word is nonsense, but I understand,
and, Oh Lord, I am not ready for this
sort of thing . . .

The thought circled his mind like an airplane trying to land in an overcrowded airport. She wants her Mom, he thought . . . I want her Mom . . .

Suddenly, Anna stopped fussing and waved one tiny fist in the air, opening wide baby eyes at the world and turning them on her father, having no idea the affect she was having on him . . .

Her kindness bangs a gong.
It's moving me along . . . .

Her face was so perfect. Just like . . . Liz's. Max sucked in his breath as the impact of her gaze made itself felt. He could see so much of her mother in her tiny features. As he watched her, he became aware of a warm sensation along his back.

Instinctively, he knew he didn't want to face the cause . . .

Turning his head to look over his shoulder, he saw a glowing mass . . .

Inside that luminous haze was the image of Liz, only hours dead, standing there, radiant and beautiful, holding out her arms for him to place Anna in them . . .

Max's mind resisted what his heart knew had to be . . .

And, Anna begins to fade away . . .

Max picked up his beautiful baby girl and kissed her cheek, crossing the room with her, slowly approaching the apparition that pretended to be his wife . . .

Placing Anna in her arms, Max stepped back feeling the breath leave his body as his daughter left his arms and his dimension to be with her mother, and his heart broke all over again . . .

It's chasing me away . . .

Liz looked up with a serene expression on her face that only served to intensify the ache in Max's soul as her hand crossed the plane of space and time to cup his cheek. Closing his eyes Max reached up to cover her hand but it was already gone . . .

She disappears and,

Oh Lord, I'm not ready for this sort of thing . . .