[april 25, 2011]
The three of us sit on our uncomfortable couch. Stella in the middle, us flanking her on either side. It’s in the evening, curtains are closed, our Margot June mix playing in the background. The oldest of us are crying, missing our second child, wishing desperately she was here. Stella is playing a word game on my phone until she interjects at the appropriate moment, as if she was listening the entire time.
“Margot died mamma?” she asks it like a question, but there is a certainty behind her tone. We go through these motions every day with her.
“Yep, Margot died sweety.” Kari replies.
“Sad so much?”
“Yes, we are so sad buddy. We miss Margot. She is your little sister.” I repeat these words several times a day, hoping they will one day mean something special to Stella.
“Maybe,” I say. “Maybe.” Kari looks at me longingly. I know what she’s thinking.
We reach out our arms above Stella and grab hands, tears welling up as Crazy Heart plays in the background.
Suddenly Stella giggles for no apparent reason. An innocent smile darts across her face as she reveals her little secret.
“I just farted.”