Balloon. Six.

Lily is SIX.
Been wearing a sequined sweater six for months,
been wiggling the tooth,
riding horses with fearless intention,
skiing happily, hands pocketed as though she were casually
gliding down a mountain.

Not sure where her confidence comes from,
it is a facet of her that is all hers...
Not from her dad, not from her mama,
this quality is homegrown.
Sprouted
out
of
Self.

She celebrated her birthday with closest family and pals,
her best gift a collection of "Daddy Stories" solicited from his oldest and dearest friends.
Just last night she ripped a turning page by accident,
studying it with her night-lite
(another birthday gift for the-girl-who-now-can-read)
in bed
on
her
own.

With six came words like
Graffiti
and
Prediction,
expressions like
"I rather prefer"
and
"That doesn't make sense" and "oh my god! That's so crazy".

"Mama, I'm going to make a prediction...  When Ricky sees Lucy he's going to say 'aye yay yay'"

And with that, I say the same.

As her birthday afternoon came to a close,
she and I rode in a taxi with her best buddy since birth,
on our way for more play,
red balloon in hand.

I want to let it go into the sky Mama, when we get home.
OK I said, so happy to celebrate her life, yet wistful with gentle ache,
knowing the wish that I knew was to come.

So there we stood on the sidewalk,
make a wish her friend said,
but don't tell us or it won't come true...
I know what it is she exclaimed with a wide wide smile,
as she released her bright red balloon into the pure blue sky.
Together we watched it soar up, up, up!

I wished that Daddy would come back to life!

Maybe he will, Lily, her old friend said - also hopeful in early life -
supporting her dreams as
Dear
Friends
Do

no Pumpkin, I said softly (my least favorite truth), that's a beautiful wish -
but unfortunately he can't come back.
But his Spirit is here with us, in our hearts...

I know, she said..

Maybe even closer, he said.

And with that we went into the building.