sick kid

When my daughter was ill as a little girl, after we picked up her prescription at the pharmacy, I would always buy her a Gatorade.

“Can I please have one?” she would ask, looking up at me pitifully with her sickly little blue eyes.

“Sure, honey.”

So she would go to the cooler and pick one out, usually fruit punch.

She’ll be 19 in January, but she still wants a Gatorade when she doesn’t feel well. She asked me a couple of days ago when I was getting ready to go to the store for a few things.

“Of course,” I replied. How could I say no?

“Okay, thank you,” she said weakly. Then she blew her nose and coughed up some phlegm.

It became a tradition. And I hope she’ll do the same thing for her children someday.

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