My daughter Cammie, a toddler then, spent three days a week with me at Children’s Hospital 35 years ago, while her older sister Elsa received intensive speech therapy for autism disorders. During those visits, Cammie and I would wander through Prouty Garden, finding the small stone animals that lurked under shrubbery along the paths (“Doctors say fight for the ‘soul’ of Children’s Hospital isn’t over”).
She named each one and, on every visit, would run to find them, hugging their stone warmth, saying hello, and trying to share an ice cream.
“Will they grow up too,” she asked one day, and I said, “No, they’ll always be here, waiting for you.”
Cammie’s gone from me now, but I was hoping her family of stone friends would always be safe.