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babies are as wonderful as Sunny, then we want lots of them.’ But it wasn’t meant to be. And we were already very happy with what we had. The three of us seemed like the perfect family.”
    But the problem with three, I thought, is that it’s such a small number. When one of the three goes, only two are left. And when one of them goes, well, you’re alone.
    I tried to bring on a smile for Mom, though. “Okay, so I was a great baby. What was I like as a little girl?”
    “Still pretty sunny. And adventurous. Do you remember the time you visited Mrs. Myrick?”
    “Mrs. Myrick? When we lived in Grove Park?”
    “Yes.”
    “Didn’t we visit her a lot?”
    “We did. But I’m thinking of a time you visited her alone. When you were three. This was how we met Mrs. Myrick in the first place.”
    “I guess I don’t remember,” I said.
    “It was a Saturday morning. You and Dad and I were in the yard. Dad and I were working in the garden, and you were playing with your dump truck.”
    “I had a dump truck?”
    “It was your favorite toy for several months.” (I laughed.) “Anyway, I was pulling weeds, and suddenly I realized you were gone. Dad and I looked in the yard first, of course. Then we searched the hose. Then we went back outside and began calling and calling for you. I asked Dad if I should phone the police and he said yes, so I did that, and while we waited for them to arrive we walked up and down the street, calling some more. A few of the neighbors joined us.
    We were several blocks away from our house when we heard you call out, ‘Hi, Mommy! Hi,
    Daddy!’ You were sitting on Mrs. Myrick’s front porch, and the two of you were having a pretend tea party. You had just wandered there by yourself. Mrs. Myrick didn’t know you, but she didn’t think you should be off on your own yet, and she was trying to figure out who you were so she could cal your parents. Of course, just at that moment the police showed up, and Dad and I were embarrassed but so glad to have you back safe and sound that we didn’t care too much. After that, Mrs. Myrick became one of our best friends.”
    “I can’t believe I did that!” I said. “Hey, Mom. Tell me about you when you were little. Were you like me?”
    “Oh, no, I was nothing like you,” said Mom. “Totally different. Scared of everything.” Mom paused and had to catch her breath.
    “You were scared of everything? But you’re so brave,” I said.
    “Me? I’m not brave!”
    “Yes, you are. Look at what you’ve been through this year. I wouldn’t have been half as brave.”
    Mom smiled ruefully. “I didn’t exactly have a choice.”
    “I still think you’re brave,” I said.
    “Well … thank you.” She closed her eyes briefly.
    “Tell me something naughty you did when you were little.”
    “Hmm, naughty,” said Mom. He eyes were sill closed. “Let me think. Did I ever tell you about the time with the chickens?”
    I laughed. “No.”
    “I was in first grade. And our teacher — ”
    “What was her name? Or his name?” I interrupted.
    “Her name. Mrs. Rago. And Mrs. Rago brought a case of chickens to our room one day. Just for fun. I decided I wanted to see them out of the cage, not stuck in it. So I let them out. They ran and flapped around the room, and Mrs. Rago made me stand in the corner.”
    “Oh, Mom! Mrs. Rago sounds mean,” I said. “But it’s a funny story.”
    “You know what I think is funny? That was one of the bravest things I did as a child — and it involved chickens. Get it? Chickens?”
    “I get it.” I was laughing again, even though Mom was wheezing and laughing. This was so nice. Mom and me. Just hanging out, talking. “I’m going to write that down,” I told Mom. “I really like that story. It’s a fun way to — ” My sentence came to a screeching halt. I had almost said “a fun way to remember you.” “I mean,” I continued, “it’s a fun memory.”
    Mom didn’t answer me. She started to cough