I’ve just quieted my thoughts after nursing Evelyn for the third time since 2 AM when Rocky’s alarm goes off. The sound is death by a thousand cuts. He puts it on snooze. This gives me enough time to almost fall asleep before the second onslaught. By the third snooze, I have given up hope that anything good can happen in this world.
I tell her that I’ve had a crush on him since kindergarten. I am 7, so this is a lifetime of unrequited love. Her expression is stuck somewhere between sympathy and dismay.
“But he’s white. You’re black.”
By the looks of it, they still had a couple hours before sunset. “We’ll be able to finish the tomatoes and the squash. We’ll get to the beans tomorrow,” said Anthony, Sky’s father. “Yes sir,” she replied without looking up. The two worked side by side, quietly transplanting their seedlings from small pots into the spring soil. Sky enjoyed this work. Despite everything, she felt safe outside. There was something about this time of year that made the fear quieter.