Before younger two came into being, there were three. Easter hats matching powder pink, blue, green. Spring ducklings strung behind white gloves. Oven mitts lifted pineapple cherry dot ham and steaming everythings after morning service. Read, sung, unison verses in church. Coins handed and passed down pews like food. Good, better, best behavior. Savoring paintings on glass and the Ascension above our heads. Bent to stare till lovingly nudged to pay attention.

As at Christmas. She took pride in our individualities. Picked, wrapped, and handed. Pink, blue, green dressed dolls. We held and inspected our little images. She caught the youngest sobbing.
“What’s wrong?”
“She’s ugly”
The other’s were pretty, singers in silk and glitter. But hers was different. Paint stained clothes, holding a pallet, freckles, and tongue sticking out to focus, (like she did). It had no blue and red makeup or long pretty hair as theirs. It didn’t seem fair.
“It’s, she’s ugly, you think I’m ugly”
If she was older, she would have read the what a quirky kid expression. But she didn’t. She listened to the gentle explanation of silent talent.

And after ham, and a coconut frosted lamb they found their baskets. Handmade in pink, blue, and green. Chocolate, jellybeans, plastic eggs. Carefully filled exactly the same.


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