a nurse came back quietly.

She slipped me a piece of paper and whispered,
“If you want to write something… I’ll try to send it with him.”

I had nothing left.

Except one thing.

I wrote a single sentence:

“Tell him he was loved.”

I gave her the note—and a small blanket I had made in secret. Blue wool. Yellow birds stitched into the corners. The only thing that continue reading …