You.

What is it about peas and ravioli that prompts a child 48 hours shy of four to casually say,
Why do people sometimes cry when they're happy?

Curious.

It wasn't my prowess at boiling water that prompted her thoughts.

What made you think of that, Pumpkin?
Nothing.

Flashback to this time last year when she asked what "Let it be" meant. Struggling to define an expression that's so simple it's complicated.
Hmmm.
Well, our heart sometimes feels really good or really sad. And when something moves us, makes us really sad or really happy, our heart somehow makes tears. Good tears. Happy tears.
It just comes from inside.

Stare.
Chew ravioli.
Spoonful of peas.

Like when you were born, I was soooooo soooo happy that you were here in my arms, safe and healthy that it made me cry. You were something that Daddy helped me make and it just felt so good to see you.
I'm so articulate.
(Great. Now we'll revisit how we made you.... Way to go Sus, way to go)
And when Addison was born and Simone was born I cried too - because I was sooo happy for Uncle Dave to have such special little people in his life, that I cried.

In truth I'm not sure I'll ever be able to encapsulate with words what Lily's birth day was like. It was preceded by seven months of darkness, daze, bewilderment, ache and marvel.

Wow. This is it.
It.

What I got.
What he got.
What she gets.

Surrounded by the quietest quiet I've ever known.
Heard nothing around me.
Blank, unfeeling faces.
No one got it.

Unsplendid isolation.

Unsplendid.

But Lily moved. And kicked and lived. Persisted like crazy within.
Grew and grew, with one less artery to feed her and she just kept going.

It all makes sense now.

Like an acrobat, she was.
So much so that videos of late night maneuvers were National Geographic worthy.
And in those moments,
I smiled.
And I spoke to her, sweetly. Softly.
The only time I liked hearing my voice.
Heard my voice.
Heavy hearted but full of hope because of what she offered.
My Secret Girl.

So that day, nearly four years ago, my heart flipped again.
And joyous broken tears found a way out.
I had Maria by my side, Rita... south, at Dr. Paka's side. Robert at my elbow, and a Super-Nurse at controls.

Alan was on the wall, positioned where I could see him,
and he,
us.

Then out came a child who must never feel the burden of being the life-saver that she is.

She must have been covered in fairy dust.

In fact, last night I spied red glitter on her bellybutton.
Must
be
why...

Yesterday we had her party, and I can still hear its soundtrack of giggles, squeals and delighted laughs.
Lily and her many sweet friends, some missing their dads too - and a new one to add, sadly, to her posse within the posse.
But he'll be OK too. We'll all watch over him.
Plenty of sad tears but happy ones too.