She caught it and giggled. “And milk?”
I nodded. “Go ahead and go to the table. I’ll pour it.”
She did as I asked, and I poured her milk into her cup, then took my coffee and hers over to the table. I sat across from her, sipping my coffee and watching her eat.
“Did you have fun last night?” I asked.
She grinned and nodded. “We had a tea party and watched Jurassic Park!”
I flinched from the volume of her excitement. “It’s so weird you like that old movie,” I muttered. “Aren’t girls your age supposed to like princesses and stuff?”
She frowned. “Girls can like dinosaurs too, silly.”
Her expression made me laugh, but I covered it with a cough and nodded.
“You’re right. They can.” I took another sip and grabbed a muffin for myself. “You know, that was one of your mom’s favorite movies, too.”
Her brows lifted. “It was?”
I nodded. “Yep, and I was scared of it. She’d make me watch, and I’d close my eyes and scream. She’d laugh and laugh,” I said, smiling while remembering the sound of her giggles.
Sophia giggled, and it sounded almost the same.
“What else was my mommy like?”
Sophia never got the chance to meet her mom, so it was almost as if she were talking about a fictional character she admired. Like she was talking about Superman or something.She watched me with wide eyes as I thought about different bits of information I could give her.
“She didn’t have any one favorite color, but she loved anything tie-dye. She loved to swim. Your grandma always said that she thought Chloe was part fish. Then she joked that I was part cat because I hated the water.”
“I like to swim too!”
I shuddered from her shrill voice. “You do?”
“Mmm-hmm,” she said, nodding.
“Chloe was a bit of a tomboy at times, but she was also super girlie too,” I told her. “She loved any story where the prince saved the princess. And as she got older, she continued to read stories about different princes and princesses. She liked to have people’s attention. She was always setting up little concerts for the family. She’d sing, dance, and pound on the piano in our living room. And after a performance, you had to cheer for her. She was always very loud, demanding everyone’s attention.”
“What about you?” Sophia asked.
“Me?” I thought about my answer. “I was the total opposite. She loved water; I hated it. She liked scary movies; I hated them. She wanted attention, and I wanted none. Everything she did had people watching her. And I couldn’t do anything unless I was alone. We were like night and day. If she were still around, I’m sure we still would be. She was as bright as the sun, and I was like the moon, only coming out when most people were no longer paying any attention.”
“I like the sun.”
I nodded. “Everyone does.”
Her eyes seemed to lighten. “But I like the moon too.” She smiled slightly, and I couldn’t help but feel like she was giving me her stamp of approval.
I smiled, warmed by her gesture.
“I like the moon too,” I agreed.
She giggled and went back to eating her muffin.
I picked at mine, eating what I could with as nauseous as I was. I only managed to get half of it down before giving up and pushing it away. I finished the entire cup of coffee, though. I knew I’d need the caffeine to keep up with Sophia for the day.
Sophia liked to pick out all the blue spots in her muffin, so by the time she was done, the table, the floor, and the chair she was sitting in were covered in muffin crumbs. I dusted her off and sent her into the living room to play while I cleaned up.
I joined her a few minutes later, and the two of us lay around for a little while, just watching cartoons. After about an hour, Sophia didn’t have it in her to sit still any longer. She got up and went to retrieve some toys, bringing them back to me so we could play together.
