Snapshot One: Comfort

Our room is usually so vibrant. Our crazy, kid-style artwork is displayed proudly on the walls, our rug is meant for 9-year-olds, and both our beds are clad in bright, billowing sheets and tropical-toned comforters. Now, however, all is dull. The lights are off, the shades are drawn, and the mood is somber. Crumpled up tissues lie scattered on the floor. I hear her crying from her loft, and climb up the end of the shaded brown bed to hold her until her shaking subsides.