make a wish

June 2088. Lucy Deppiesse is 22, Cassie is 2, Eris is 6 months. Delphie and Dakota are 18. Shannon Brett is 17, Jacob Collins is 16.






Lucy once said she wanted seven children, but the truth was, she could barely handle two. 

It rained far too much here in Washington. Cassie didn’t mind the rain. And maybe Lucy promised they would play outside one last time before bed. But then Eris needed to nurse, again. Growth spurt. She needed a bounce and a burp, and then she spit up. The little squirt aimed straight for Lucy’s cleavage and soaked her all the way down to the underboob. They both needed a change of clothes. Then the rain started. The downpour was too intense to bring the baby out. Too intense for a strong-willed, toddler, too, but try telling that to Cassie. “Why? Mama, you said. You said.” 

And Cassie wasn’t wrong. Lucy did say, didn’t she? 

There was no one to help. They worked Dallas to the bone here, twelve-hour shifts most days of the week. Her neighbor, Marlie, was eight months pregnant and ready to pop. It should have been so lucky to have a teenager next door, but Marlie’s moody teenage son scared Lucy and she would never ask for his help. Everyone else on base had somewhere to be and something to do.

So, sorry, teary little one, so it seems sometimes life doesn’t turn out the way you thought it would. So it seems, sometimes, you don’t get to play outside one more time before bed even though you were given a promise. 

But they were so blessed to be here, together, after everything they’d been through. So blessed.