This might not be news, but our baby is strange. I thought little kids were supposed to be frightened of thunderstorms, but Isabel seemed to think the sky was putting on a show just for her. She clapped, squealed, and did a strange little babydance everytime the lightning flashed, pressing up against the window for more. Millie was only able to lure her away by offering her a bath, which made her go strip and roll in the dry tub.
...I have no idea where that kid gets it from.
This case is exhausting me. Dealing with McCoy, the threats, the past...I told Millie before that I was able to keep it away from home, but I think I was wrong. It got to me, I think, closing off my chest, dragging up some kind of mood that just drained me. This isn't the first time this has happened, but this time, she was there; not to talk, what good would that do when there aren't words for what's dragging you down, but to lean on, to be something solid, proof that I was still there, outside of the job.
Normally, it's just a look at her when I get through the door, or knowing she'll be there, and that's enough. Today, she knew I needed more; I don't know how, but she did. Somehow, she knows what I need, she is what I need, she's the strength I don't have.
After she let some of the stress drain away, we ate in front of the big window and laughed at Isabel. Two summers ago, this was an empty room, and now, she was there, holding our baby.If I didn't have them both, I don't know what I'd do.