Dear Scarlet

Dear Scarlet, 
I just spent the last ten minutes watching you sleep. It never gets old. We had our Friday walk to IHOP today. You just wanted bacon and green lemonade. We talked about last summer when we used to walk everywhere. You refer to it as “Fulton Street when I didn’t have a dad.” Because everything is so good now, I forget how confusing those times were for you. We talked about friend dates and how it was to be alone. We talked about how he’ll probably deploy within the next year and how it’ll be just the two of us again. You were gabbing nonstop about being best friends and egg roll picnics, your short hair, how we’d always protect each other from that mouse while we slept in the livingroom bed, walking to take pictures at the park and eating popsicles on our old porch at sunset.  We talked about how heavy our hearts felt with love. “Heavy as an airplane, Mom.” I told you that you were  a fantastic kid and you told me that was a nice thing to say. Last summer was hard, but there wasn’t a second of it that wasn’t worth living. I know we’ll be okay when he has to leave again, because we still have each other and because you’re still my favorite deputy.