Dear Anna,
You fell today at school. Swinging in the sun your beloved monkey bars, and then a face full of warm bloody wood chips. A cut lip and badly bruised nose made your face appear like a mask, swollen and still, which made your brown eyes seem even bigger and more alive by contrast. You didn't say much.
You were so pleased your friend had given you a new pencil. You sat on the couch at the climbing gym, spinning it over and over in your hands.
When we walked in to Cafe Rio (thanks Nana for the giftcard), you put your hands up to be held like you did when you were two, and without thinking or hesitation, I picked you up. You leaned your head in, so we were cheek to cheek, you looking back, me at the commotion behind the glass, and it was a moment so delicious and simple I want you to know about it. We swayed back and forth. The noise and people all seemed so unimportant. All I could see feel or smell was my love for you and my gratitude for being your mom.
