We had been at the park for just a few minutes when they pulled up. The car was white with dark, smokey tinted windows. We waited, as we do, to see who would emerge, so often unexpected playground delight comes in the form of new friends. Afte a time a little girl scampered out, about Fin’s age. Her hair was long, with lazy, looping curls that lapped at her waist. She sparked memories of watching Brave, for the unruliness of her hair, though it was a lighter red, and the determination with which she eventually squeaked, kicked and willed her way up into the tire swing. “Mommy, mommy push me. Do the hot air balloon.” Silence. I watched my own girls, they had taken…
Tagged: Just Write