Eleven Disparate Dots

Connect 'em all

1. I’m holding my baby. “A Whiter Shade of Pale” plays in the kitchen as I watch my wife cut the slightly-older daughter’s toenails on the stoop. Neighborhood BBQ drifts in through the screen door of the house we own. One of us may have a health issue, but the baby doesn’t care. She’s in awe, staring at me as I realize this is one of the last times I'll…