I Fell in Love with Hope - Lancali

following the moving shapes across the sky.
“A cloud,” Neo chews, not even looking.
Sony flicks his forehead.
“Hey!”
“That one looks like a bird! You see the wings?” Sony pulls me by the
shirt collar so I can see from her vantage point. Our baby grumbles,
crammed between us. Watching more clouds go by with the time,
Sony swings her legs back and forth, as enamored with the sky as
she is with the sea. With wonder, she whispers, “I’ve always wanted
wings.”
At first, Neo scowls every time Sony and I walk through his door. He
complains when she talks too much and turns away when she wants
to play games. He goes so far as to try and escape us, practically
running. He’s yet to learn of Sony’s love for racing.
After a time, Neo begins doing what writers do. He listens to Sony.
Sony says senseless things, childish things, no matter the audience.
She observes, she questions. She’s unafraid to exist to her fullest.
Her fire burns hot, and Neo is small. He gets cold easily.
When I bring apples, Sony brings a child’s imagination. She reads
his stories with audible gasps, tangible tears, and snorting humor.
Those reactions let Neo look at her. Not with a scowl. With a kind of
gratitude that only writers understand.
Sony asks me why Neo’s books and stories are mine to hide during
parent visits. When I tell her, a sad look plagues her eyes.
That night, once Neo’s parents are gone, silence sits in her mouth.
We walk into his room together. Sony sits on the bed and wraps her
arms around him.
“You okay?” Neo asks.