The three of us walk to Harper’s ballet class on what feels like winter’s end. “It’s hotter out here than it is in the house!” Hadley exclaims running ahead of us. Harper follows her, skipping. She’s wearing rain boots, pink tights, and her black leotard. Harper calls it a “leotart,” and I don’t correct her just as I didn’t correct Hadley when she used to call the library “wahbare,” or say, “ganks” for thanks. Hadley figured out the correct words, and so will Harper. I’ll keep the memory.
Harper’s underpants are smooshed and crinkled between her leotard and tights. “Harper,” I say as I dodge puddles the snow is leaving behind while it melts, “you forgot to take your underpants off!”
“Oh! Right!” She says as she jumps in each puddle splashing water up the length of her legs. “Don’t worry, Mommy,” she says climbing to the top of what’s left of a snow bank. “All the girls forget.” She’s standing a foot above me with her hands in the air like she’s rejoicing when she says, “Every week, we are all wearing underpants!”
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DUDE. Gorgeous. Also I miss you.