Today it’s three weeks until 23 October. That’s the day when Abbe is going to have the third heart operation in his two-and-a-half-year-old life. After that, we will get a new little boy back, they have promised. One with rosy cheeks. An Abbe whose body can play and mess about as much as his soul wants him to. But it will be a major operation, as far as I understand.
That’s why I am longing for that moment in time. And that’s why I’m not.