Silvie is as restless as the bubbles in her mother's water glass. As rare as the pine nuts her mother requests to quell cravings. As eager as the server to keep things moving after Silvie's father says, get her whatever she wants.

After Hannah wrote the speech, she memorized it, then performed it for her stuffed animals. By the fourth try, the words began feeling unfamiliar in her mouth, devoid of meaning, and that’s how she knew she was ready. If she treated it like a performance, she would get her point across, easy. And if she didn’t? She hadn’t thought that far yet.

Is it my turn? OK, hi, everybody. I don’t really know what to say. I’m fine, these days I walk a lot. But something weird happened yesterday evening. The phone rings, I answer, but there is silence at the other end. I waited and talked into the phone again, still nothing.

We were knee-deep in the water at the fountain near Oma’s house when I asked you, “Mama, how long did you wait before telling anyone?”

The last of summer’s heat shimmered in a dandelion sun. Dozens of people surrounded us, wading into the relief of the water, but to them we were just another splash, another murmur. 

My older sister has been married for several years. Today is the first time I’ve come to see her new home. 

The neighborhood is quiet, shaded by trees. Pale pink magnolias bloom along the paths. When the door opens, I see her again after a long time. Her sharply arched eyebrows and firm features are still there, though her expression has softened. 

“Any boo-boos to report?”

I shook my head wildly. “No boo-boos, sir.”

In truth, there were boo-boos to report: I had a skinned knee. It stung badly, but there wasno choice for me but to maintain my composure—if I admitted I was bleeding, I would no doubt be brought to my mommy, who would then pour hydrogen peroxide on the wound, bringing about unfathomable pain and suffering.