At the park we made up songs for swinging and for brushing off the dirt when she fell. We peered into a giant tree hole and when she was done she was done and it was time to go.
"Eyebrows are very complicated," she said. "Why do we have these eyebrows from Jesus?"
We were lying down on my bed for a nap. I promised paints afterward if she'd take a rest with me. She traced my face with her fingers and we closed our eyes and whisper counted our drift-off. On thirty, her hand, fist round like a paw, fell softly to my side.