I
was too busy trying to preserve them.
Chris was changing too.
He constantly checked whether Ethan was tired, hungry, cold, or uncomfortable.
He monitored every expression.
Every movement.
Every breath.
Our son could barely finish a joke without one of us asking whether he needed to rest.
We thought we were protecting him.
But we were gradually surrounding him with our fear.
Then one afternoon, a representative from a wish-granting organization visited his hospital room.
She sat beside Ethan and smiled.
“If you could choose one special experience, anything at all, what would it be?”
I expected him to ask for something extraordinary.
Perhaps a trip to a beautiful beach.
Maybe a visit to an amusement park.
Or an opportunity to meet his favorite football player.
But Ethan answered immediately.
“A football game!”
He named his favorite team.
Then he added something that seemed almost too obvious to mention.
