Dearest tiny voice, fearless leader, intuition, dappled afternoon light. The toughest girl I know. That to which I should aspire.

Yesterday, I spent the late afternoon in our aunt’s backyard, shaded by a tree she planted a decade ago. Imagine that. A tree providing shade, oxygen, and dappled light, just because a woman placed its fragile beginnings in the soil on a day that seemed like any other.

You can imagine that. The obvious conclusion, now that I take it into consideration — you’ve raised a son. A sunrise. Beauty walking, talking, learning. And you’ve done so much more.

Sitting in that backyard, soft Tennessee May brushing my bare arms, I wallowed in home. In generosity and attentiveness. Good food. Family.

Today my balcony door is open and saxophone music is floating across the water. Wish you were here. Or, I was there just a mile or so from that old house where we learned to ride bicycles.

Sometimes I wonder what it’s like for you to live in a cute little cottage just down the road from where we skinned our knees and filed away childhood facts in whispers while we were supposed to be asleep early on a school night.

I’ve been to a lot of places, seen a lot more geography up close than you have. Met a lot of academics, farmers, badasses, and self-proclaimed saints. You’re still the toughest girl I know. My tiny voice, intuition, fearless leader, dappled afternoon light.