I see you in her

I wake a hundred times a night to hear, to see, to feel you breathe; on tenterhooks for any sign of struggling, or spit-up, or a gurgling wheeze. And when you finally dissolve (with heavy eyes, and wrapped in place), I roll to my side to see your mum’s eyes but what I see instead is your face.

In my half-awake state, sometimes I’d see Summer when looking at Ashley sleeping.