45. Summer
45
SUMMER
T he sunlight streaming through the hospital window was softer today, golden and warm, wrapping Ava’s small room in a comforting glow. She was sitting up in bed, her cheeks pink again, a sparkle in her blue eyes that I hadn’t seen in weeks. Bunny sat beside her, dressed in a fresh new bow tie that Elaine had brought the day before.
“Mommy, look!” Ava said, holding up a coloring book page she had just finished. It was a castle, bright with mismatched colors that somehow worked perfectly together.
“It’s beautiful, sweetheart,” I said, leaning over to admire her work.
“Do you think Bunny would live here?” she asked seriously, tilting her head.
“I think he’d love it,” I said, smiling.
Enzo appeared in the doorway, carrying a tray with Ava’s lunch. “What’s this? A castle for Bunny?” he asked, setting the tray down on the small table beside her bed.
“Yes! Do you think he’d like purple walls?” Ava asked, holding up the page for him to see.
“Purple’s perfect,” he said with a grin, ruffling her curls. “Bunny has excellent taste.”
It was hard to believe how much had changed in just a few weeks. Ava’s recovery had been slow at first, every small step forward celebrated with cautious optimism. But now, she was sitting up, talking, laughing—the Ava we knew and loved was back.
“She’s really getting better,” I said softly to Enzo as Ava started on her lunch.
“She is,” he said, his voice filled with quiet pride. “She’s incredible.”
“She is,” I agreed, my throat tightening with emotion. “I can’t believe we’re finally here.”
He placed a hand on my shoulder, his touch grounding me. “You believed in her, Summer. Even when it was hard. That’s why we’re here.”
The nurses came in shortly after lunch to check on Ava, their smiles wide as they fussed over her. “You’re looking so much better, Ava,” one of them said, her tone cheerful.
“I feel better,” Ava said proudly, holding Bunny up. “And so does Bunny!”
“I bet he does,” the nurse said, laughing. “You’ve been such a brave girl.”
When the nurses left, Ava turned to me, her expression serious. “When can we go home, Mommy?”
I glanced at Enzo, who nodded. “Soon, sweetheart,” I said, brushing a curl from her face. “The doctors just want to make sure you’re completely ready.”
Later that afternoon, Dr. Simmons came by with his usual calm demeanor, but there was a lightness in his voice that hadn’t been there before. “I have some good news,” he said, looking at both Enzo and me.
“You’re ready to tell us she’s going home, right?” Enzo asked, his tone teasing but hopeful.
Dr. Simmons chuckled. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Ava’s vitals are excellent, and her bloodwork shows significant improvement. If everything continues on this trajectory, you’ll be able to take her home in the next couple of days.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, tears springing to my eyes. “Thank you,” I whispered, my voice trembling.
Dr. Simmons nodded. “She’s a fighter. You both should be very proud of her—and of yourselves.”
That evening, Elaine and Richard joined us for dinner in Ava’s room, their joy evident as they listened to her chatter about going home. “Can Bunny come too?” she asked, her tone serious.
“Of course, Bunny’s coming,” Elaine said, laughing. “He’s the star of the show!”
“We’ll make sure he has a special spot in the car,” Richard added, winking.
Ava beamed, her smile brighter than the sunlight streaming through the window.
The next morning, the nurses helped us pack up Ava’s things, their excitement nearly matching ours. As we wheeled her out of the hospital in a small wheelchair, the staff gathered to say goodbye, clapping and cheering for her.
“You’re famous,” Enzo said, leaning down to whisper in her ear.
Ava giggled, waving at everyone. “Bye! Thank you for helping me!”
I felt tears welling up as I looked at her, so full of life again. The fear and uncertainty of the past weeks had given way to something brighter, something filled with hope.
At home, we settled Ava into the living room, surrounding her with pillows and blankets, her favorite shows playing softly in the background. Elaine had stocked the fridge with all of Ava’s favorite snacks, and Richard had left a stack of new books for us to read together.
“This is so much better than the hospital,” Ava declared, snuggling into the couch with Bunny.
“It sure is,” I said, sitting beside her.
Enzo joined us, pulling up a chair and resting his hand on my knee. “Welcome home, Ava,” he said softly, his voice filled with emotion.
That night, after Ava had fallen asleep, Enzo and I sat together on the porch, the cool evening air wrapping around us. “We did it,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“No,” he said, turning to me. “She did it. We just stood by her side.”
I nodded, tears slipping down my cheeks. “I can’t believe how strong she is. How strong we all had to be.”
Enzo reached over, taking my hand in his. “We’re stronger together, Summer. Always.”
As I leaned my head against his shoulder, the weight of the past weeks began to lift, replaced by a quiet sense of gratitude. Ava was home, she was healthy, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the future seemed bright.
The next morning, I posted an update online, thanking everyone for their prayers and support. The responses were immediate—comments filled with love, congratulations, and relief. It reminded me just how many people had been rooting for Ava, and how much strength we’d found in the love surrounding us.
As I sat by her side, watching her peacefully sleep, I finally let myself breathe deeply. Ava was home. Enzo was by my side. And for the first time in years, I could look to the future with hope.