“You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you…”
A truck went by. It slowed down. The driver must have seen us. Standing in the rain under the little blue sign.
He honked his horn. Twice. Long and low.
Then he drove on.
“Please don’t take my sunshine away.”
That was a year ago.
Ellie is eight now. She’s in third grade. She still has Mr. Hops. His crooked ear finally fell off completely in August. Danny sewed it back on. He’s better at it than I am. He says they teach you in the junior firefighter program. First aid. Stitches.
“For people,” I said. “Not bunnies.”
“Bunnies are people,” Ellie said firmly.
Danny comes on Sundays. Most Sundays. Vanessa drives him down from Lee’s Summit. They stay for dinner. Danny helps Ellie with her math homework. Vanessa and I sit on the front porch, the one that doesn’t sag anymore, and drink coffee and watch the street.
