All I remember is my father's white pocket square desperately trying to stop the blood from my face as he ran with me in his arms to the hospital. After one of my early cleft lip surgeries, there was an unfortunate mishap that destroyed the previous procedure so I had to undergo emergency surgery again.
If you look closely, you'll see the hospital windows, a hint of blue (the color of my dress), a tiny drop of bloody red and eye capturing both fear and strength.
I suppose this is how I learned at such a young age that things just happen, no one's fault, and that's just part of being alive.
