August 3rd:
This morning, I woke up quite late.
For the first time in 158 days of pregnancy, I slept past seven in the morning.
I seemed to have some inertia, lying sideways under the air conditioning blanket, and I just wasn't willing to get up.
Every previous day, I would habitually roll to the right and touch the spot where Amo used to sleep. But today, I didn't want to open my eyes, I didn't want to face the cruel reality.
I always thought that as long as I didn't open my eyes, didn't turn to my right, I could always be in a dream.
MXXX flight accident, it's been three months and fifteen days.
During this period, I had the same dream many times.
I dreamt about Amo sitting on the sofa, patiently peeling pomegranates for me.
And I, with delight, dominantly, and unabashed, spit the leftover pomegranate seeds into his palm.
Watching him throw away the pomegranate seeds, then turning around and giving me a gentle smile: I have really spoilt you rotten.
