If I knew Noah would be taken from me, what would I do in the time we had left? I could waste that time dreading it, or I could…
What?
So far, we’d been lucky.
Luck?Mama would say. Please! God has been watching over you
Maybe so, Mama.
It could end tomorrow. It could end next year. Or five years from now. Or maybe Noah would keep right on keeping on like the trooper that he was. The not knowing was killing me.
What would happen if I simply let it go?
“Do not be anxious for the morrow,” Jesus had said.
What could all this worry do? Could it add one minute to Noah’s life? Could it hold back the inevitable?
Of course not.
I undressed, crawled into bed with Noah, eased my arm under his head, and pulled him close.
There was no way to know the future. But, as Papaw used to say, it ain’t over till that fat Italian bitch bursts your eardrums with her goddamn Christless screeching.