It was a fitful night of being woken often, though when I finally opened my eyes for real and not in a mumbling state of protest, it wasn't to the nice nurse in the blue scrubs with more medication, but to my dad sitting at my side, holding my hand.

I winced into the early morning light coming through the edges of the blinds, but the longer I looked at him, the more the pain of that illumination faded.

Dad's smile reminded me of the times I'd gotten hurt as a ...