At the end of the day, we put ourselves into bed.
In the morning, we wake and we rise.
Everyday we do the same, because all we have is ourself;
To push alone through the days, both good and bad.
At the end of our lives we die alone, and the life we live is ours alone.
All we have is ourselves.
The first time you and Harry take your little girl on an airplane, she’s only four months old. You’re a little worried that she won’t do well and end up crying the whole seven hour flight, but Harry assures you that she’ll be fine.
She’s fine for the first few hours; Harry keeps her entertained by bouncing her on his lap and you feed her when she gets hungry. Half way through the flight - when the cabin lights dim and it’s nearing the middle of the night - is when things start to go downhill.
The baby starts fussing and doesn’t want to just be bounced anymore. You cringe when she starts letting out tiny wails and try to shush her so she doesn’t wake the other passengers, but nothing seems to help. Finally, Harry stands with her and starts walking up and down the aisle, patting her back and talking to her in a low murmur.
“I know s'hard, baby. You don’t like bein’ cooped up like tha’ and your little ears probably hurt, don’t they? But s'only a few more hours, princess, and then we’ll get you into a proper crib, yeah? Think you can be a good girl and have a sleep for daddy until then? Hmm? If daddy walks around with yeh for a while?”
Her cries soon turn to whimpers and finally to soft coos as her eyes get heavy and the motion of Harry rocking her lulls her to sleep.
Harry smiles when he sees her asleep on his shoulder and leans down to kiss her head.
“Thank you, little love. Have good dreams.”
He paces for a few more moments, just to be sure that she’s really out, before coming back to his seat and positioning her against his chest as she sleeps soundly for the rest of the flight.