Ballerina Flats

So this week has been harder than I thought.

Don’t get me wrong, I hold you so close to my heart and you are always on my mind. A song, a scene from a movie or a TV show, a picture, a quote, a news article can make me think of you and cause me to feel sad for awhile.

But twice a year, I just find it harder to breathe. I become more guarded, I act as if I don’t let it eat into me, but it gnaws on that same spot that hasn’t quite heal from the last time. I smiled and look for something to laugh at, someone to laugh with (your brothers and your dad are great at that). I distract myself with work, things like checking out Amazon for good buys, but it’s just temporary.

Is it just me or time just kinda slows down when we get to August and December.

Last Thursday, I had lunch at Wang Cafe after taking your older brother to school. My usual fare, Mee Siam set with Iced Lemon Tea.

Along came a mother pushing a stroller with a baby, about your younger brother’s age, and a little girl standing on the Lascal Buggy Board. The eldest child, a boy maybe about eight years old, took up the rear. The mother found a table right in front of me, gave instructions to the older brother and the little girl to sit there while she went to place her order, taking the youngest with her.

The little girl, the middle child, decided to take out the Crayola markers from the pouch and some Disney Princess colouring sheets. Her older brother, quite mischevious actually, decided to disturb her by dropping his coin into the back of her dress.

She had the prettiest light grey dress and shiny silver ballerina flats. Her hair was tied up into a short ponytail and she got more and more irritated with her older brother. Although she tried to show her displeasure by giving him the look and pushing his hand away, she didn’t throw any tantrum and decided that the best way for him to stop whatever he was doing was to ignore him and she continued to colour her Belle.

I nearly died there. It was really hard to keep the emotions at bay. My jaws were clenched and my eyes started to sting.

The mother came back and their food came shortly. She cut up the noodles into smaller bits and put aside some chicken macaroni soup for the two older children. The youngest, the baby, started to fuss a little in the stroller but stopped when he found a toy to chew on.

The little girl was too short to eat her macaroni seated on the stool, so she had to kneel on it and ate her lunch on her own.

I left before they finished.

That little girl was you, Leia.

That would have been all of us, you, me, both your brothers.

And it sucks that it isn’t.

On Monday, I saw them again at Wang Cafe. What a coincidence, except the mother had taken the two older children with her.

Once again, the little girl had to kneel on the stool to eat her chicken macaroni soup.

She had another pair of ballerina flats, a light blue one. The prettiest blue I have ever seen. The blue that I would have gotten you this year.

Happy 3rd Birthday, Leia.
We miss you here, always.

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