there is something about being a girl about being ten about that in between-ness of where we stand all arms and legs and laughs just before the world steals it away forces you to become young lady dance partner hiding away all your smarts and guffaws and wry observations
today i go and sit where i sat for the last time with my father
next month he will have turned sixty-five in four months exactly i will be thirty-eight.
i suppose in some ways i am always this girl. number one girl, he’d say.
in one month and fifteen days it will be three years since he died with my head on his chest.