Big Pink Taxi

Tomorrow seemed so far away when the consultant told us in the new year that Ava had to have another eye operation. But it's already upon us.
At work, the week has been a bit frenetic. I was helping to oganise an industry seminar on top of my usual workload, which, combined with some late night business negotiations meant I was asleep on Paul's shoulder, snoring into his ear before 10pm last night. And then there's been all the frenzied speculation and, finally, the revelations about Apple's new iPad, which promises some interesting competition for Amazon's Kindle with its iBooks platform. Just keeping on top of all the news in digital technologies and their impact on books and reading would be a full time job for anyone.
It's all fading fast now as I try to stop my stomach churning, thinking about how tomorrow I'll have to look on again while my little girl is wheeled away under general anaesthetic to the operating theatre. At bed time, I reminded Ava we'd be off early tomorrow morning to the hospital. 'You're going to have another magic sleep, remember?' I said gently as I stroked her long, fine brown hair off her forehead. 'And they're going to have another go at fixing your broken eye.' She stares at me and does a big pout. Then she starts reading her Alice in Wonderland book again.
'We'll be going in a big taxi again, early in the morning! And you'll be able to play with all the lovely toys at the hospital while we wait for the doctors!"
"I want a pink taxi," she insists. "And I don't want eye drops."
I am laughing now.
"You must look after me and never leave me," she suddenly says, and her eyes are wet. So are mine.
"I never will," I say. I take a deep breath and kiss her head and I leave the room quietly.