Something to Hold

"Can you pick up Alaska?"

Her remains?

Her ashes?

The teaspoon of dust that is all we have left?

This conversation reminded me of the ones that Brandon and I used to have about who was going to pick the boys up from daycare. But this is it. A once in a lifetime moment. Who gets to pick Alaska up and bring her home? I'm sort of jealous that it wasn't me, but I'm glad that it was her daddy. He's the one who should have had all of those trips to daycare.

"I have Alaska."

Her remains.

Her ashes.

Dust in a heart-shaped urn.

Alaska's urn and teddy bear

As I waited for Alaska to get home, I realized that I still had my ridiculous beanie on. And as if it mattered, I had to take it off and fix my hair. When he came into the house carrying Alaska in his arms for the first time, I realized that he was meant to bring her home.

"I'm home."

She's here now.

All of her--body and soul.

A brass heart inside a teddy bear.