“I’m scared.” Her eyes opened wide and the tears, which had been perched on the edge of her lower lid, made their escape. Her flushed cheeks glistened with the wetness.

I rubbed her back, my hand making slow circles against her cotton shirt. “I know you are,” I said. “But it will pass.”

I stopped there and left so many things unsaid. I had no idea where the future would lead or what it held in store, but I knew that living in the past was not the solution. I knew that ignoring the symptoms wouldn’t make them go away. I knew that, no matter what, we’d be there for her. I knew that soon, she wouldn’t even remember the fear, so that yes, it sure would pass.

At least for her.

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Christina Consolino is a mother, dreamer, author, editor and teacher from Dayton, Ohio. She's a member of the Plot Sisters and teaches Anatomy & Physiology at Sinclair Community College. She writes women's fiction, young adult fiction, personal essays, and more.