16. Life

Cam imagined having children would be like having tiny versions of himself and his wife crawling around the kitchen floor at his feet.

When he was first allowed to hold the little child bundled up in blue blankets, his mind drew up a portrait of an angry red tomato; a misshapen head with tiny bleary eyes squished back into puffy recesses of blotchy red skin.

Nothing like him. Nor like his sweet Lillian. But he wasn't supposed to be. He'd be his own little person, and he'd bloom one day. Cam cradled the child carefully, and safely, in his arms.