Her head pops up, and I push it back down on my shoulder. “Is that what happened with you and
Genevieve?” she asks.
“Honestly, I don’t know what happened with me and Genevieve. She moved away, and we were
still friends, and then we weren’t.” I realize belatedly that it’s not the most comforting thing to say to
someone who’s feeling left out by her friends. “But I’m sure that will never happen to you.”
Kitty lets out a defeated little sigh. “Why can’t things just stay the same as before?”
“Then nothing would ever change and you wouldn’t grow up; you would have stayed nine forever
and never have turned ten.”
She wipes her nose with the back of her arm. “I might not mind that.”
“Then you’d never get to drive, or go to college, or buy a house and adopt a bunch of dogs. I know
you want to do all that stuff. You have an adventurous spirit, and being a kid can get in the way of
that, because you have to get other people’s permission. When you’re older, you can do what you
want and you won’t have to ask anybody.”
Sighing she says, “Yeah, that’s true.”
I smooth her hair away from her forehead. “Want me to put on a movie for you guys?”
“A horror one?”
“Sure.”
She’s perking up, going into bargaining mode like the business lady she is. “It has to be rated R.
No kid stuff.”
“Fine, but if you guys get scared, you aren’t sleeping with me in my room. Last time you guys kept
me up all night. And if any parents call to complain, I’m telling them you guys snuck the movie on
your own.”
“No problem.”
I watch her fly up the stairs. Impossible as she is, I like Kitty just as she is. I wouldn’t have
minded if she’d stayed nine forever. Kitty’s cares are still manageable; they can fit in the palm of my
hand. I like that she still depends on me for things. Her cares and her needs make me forget my own. I
like that I am needed, that I am beholden to somebody. This breakup with Peter, it’s not as big as
Katherine Song Covey turning ten. She has sprung up like a weed, without a mother, just two sisters
and a dad. That is no small feat. That’s something extraordinary.
But ten, wow. Ten isn’t a little girl anymore. It’s right in between. The thought of her getting older,
outgrowing her toys, her art set... it makes me feel a bit melancholy. Growing up really is
bittersweet.
My phone buzzes, and it’s a pitiful text from Daddy:
Is it safe to come downstairs? I’m so thirsty.
Coast is clear.
Roger that.