Because of COVID restrictions designed to keep Ruddy safe, Ryanne has never seen Ruddy’s hospital room. She’s never met any of his nurses. She’s never watched Ruddy get his chemo. Her brother repeatedly leaves for weeks at a time to visit a place she’s only imagined to have treatments she doesn’t understand.

So for this strong and courageous five-year-old, the idea of cancer is as obscure as the coronavirus. In fact, she sometimes gets mixed up and accidentally says Ruddy has “the virus.”

But when I ask her what she does while Ruddy is at the hospital, she answers without skipping a beat. “I wait and wait and wait for him to come back,” she tells me, “because I miss him.”

“I was always trying to move so fast before. I wish I could go back and tell myself to just slow down.”

Cancer changes everything. Now, when Carter doesn’t feel good, when he needs something, or when he just wants to be held, Davida has learned to just stop, be in the moment, and hold him close.

“Why rush?” she asks, more as a statement than a question.

All I can think to say is, “Don’t.”