I got a card from my not-so-secret pal a few weeks back. She’s eleven, blonde-ish, and creeping up on me height-wise. She lives in the bedroom above mine. As far as secret-pal duties go, she favors sneaking up on me when I’m working and
Gage follows me into the bathroom and watches while I put the brush back where it belongs. As we turn to leave, he settles his gaze on the drawer where I keep the bandaids — the boring ones, and the ones I’ve collected just for him.
We missed the Evergreen State Fair this year. I don’t know how that happens. I am always so determined that we’re going to go, but sometimes August slips into September and our chance disappears along with it. There’s always the Puyallup,
I saw the boy as Dave and I were driving out the back entrance of the Starbucks parking lot. I’m amazed I noticed him at all because I was totally consumed with my iced grande soy latte. I’d been trying to get up the courage to try a soy