little earrings

Patricija gets her first dangling earrings and slightly heeled sandals for the very first time in her life.

On the way home, she keeps opening the car mirror, admiring herself with delight.
“Mom, do you think Grandpa will recognize me when he gets home?” she raises her eyebrows.

Back home, she ties her hair up “for” Grandpa’s arrival and stretches her neck, running to greet him. Grandpa showers her with praise. Grandma whispers the “code” name: “earrings.”

After collecting applause and compliments, she flutters over to me.
“Mom, look from over there—
how OLD do I look to you with these earrings and these slightly taller sandals?”

I lift my eyes and smile.
“About ten—great.”

The answer satisfies her, and she skips off happily, thrilled that she’s not far from catching up to her big brother, Dominykas.

I watch her and want to shout: Oh, time, stop!
Cradle her still-naive little hands in mine once more.

V.