"What?" Andy asked with a concerned and confused look on his face.
"I went to the NICU earlier today. I figured you went there too."
Andy, puzzled, looked at me like I was losing it (this is not the first time I've gotten a look like this from him).
"Think about it, Andy. Did you use the bathroom at the doctor today? Did you wash your hands?"
"Oh," Andy said, realization overcoming his face. "The soap. Yes, the soap."
We had a six-month check-up with Elijah's rehabilitation medicine doctor (Dr. Nice Guy) yesterday. On the way out, we both used the bathroom. As I stood washing my hands in the sink, suddenly it was four and a half years ago and I was scrubbing up my hands and arms in order to be able to see my fighting-for-his-life-son. It's amazing how something like a smell can transport you through time (and I know I'm not the only parent who's bothered by the smell of hospital soap).
As I glanced at myself in the mirror, I was happy to see myself in the present time, knowing my boy was being lovingly placed into his car-seat by his dad and not laying in an isolette nearby.
Please don't tell anyone that I've discovered the secret to time travel. It can remain undiscovered if you ask me.
|Eli and his wild hair|