This story was written at 3am, while I sat in my youngest’s room, crying. I had had a bad dream and had woken in tears, inconsolable though my husband tried his best. Chloe, then an infant, cried out from downstairs and I left our bed to sit in the rocking chair beside her crib while she settled back to sleep. The dream, which was as short and sadly sweet as the story it became, was/is unshakable. Still, I feel sorrow recalling the scene.