We were in the midst of journal writing today when a conversation about moms and dads sprung to life on one side of the room, and traveled quickly around the tables until it landed on mine.
“So, do you have a mom, Mrs. Smythe? Where is she?” asked Lily.
“Well, I do have a mom, but she’s in heaven.” I said with a bit of a sad smile.
“Oh,” she said quietly. And then sprung back to life and asked with a smile, “Where’s your dad?”
“He’s in heaven, too.” I said.
“Oh.” She said, somewhat puzzled.
Sasha, who is a fixture at my table for one reason or another, sat back and crossed her arms. “Okay, Mrs. Smythe, here’s what you do. Do you know where the graveyard is?”
“Yes!” I said, “I sure do.”
“Okay girl, so you take a piece of paper, write them a letter and put it in an envelope. Then you take it to the graveyard and put it on the gravestone. BAM. That’s what you do.” She looked at me with her eyebrows raised and a smirk.
I smiled as I looked at her. “AWESOME, Sasha. That sounds awesome. And you know what? Can I BAM you right back?”
“Yeah, you can,” she smiled, as she stuck out her fist for a pump.