“I made press with messy handwriting,” said Alma the sometimes cat.
Laughing when she can, coming out of her fear, being, coding, drawing, smiling, with the wonderful bright happiness of a child who feels trusted, cared for, supported, and thought well of.
She skips out of my life without saying good bye, but her skip and her smile is all goodbye.
So fleeting is our time. So long our paths, and so far apart. For this brief moment we remember each other. In a week, we will forget. Yet we will have, in our time, been happy steps in each other’s path.
May you be touched by only gentle hands, and may your brilliance reveal itself in the decades to come.
“I made press with messy handwriting, ” said Alma, and then she left.
