"Brown."
She grinned.
"Like Daddy's!"
Then she hugged me.
Our younger son, Leo, was five.
He was convinced that my new sight meant I had acquired a superpower.
"Mommy, can you see through walls now?"
I laughed.
"No, sweetheart."
"Can you see in the dark?"
"Not very well."
He looked disappointed.
Then brightened.
"Can you see my dinosaur?"
He lifted a green plastic dinosaur toward my face.
I studied it.
"Yes."
He smiled so widely that his cheeks seemed to disappear.
"Then you're magic!"
I pulled him close.
"No, baby."
I kissed his forehead.
"I'm just Mommy."
And for the first time, I understood that my children hadn't needed me to see them in order to feel loved.
They'd always known I was watching over them in every way that mattered.
***
Nigel and I began counseling.
We attended separately at first.
Then together.
It wasn't easy.
There were sessions when I could barely look at him.
