January

"So,"  Berenice announced.

"When I'm sixteen, I'm going to have long nails and a wig."

I looked at all seven years of her and smiled.  She plucked at the skin on my hands.

"Why is it so...loose?"  she asked.

"Don't make me get you."  I responded. 

The day that Lola died, I sang "You are the One" to her.  I am not a singer, but I always sang it to her when she was a baby.  I sang it to her on the last day, too.  Three days earlier, on the Sunday night when everything went wrong, when we saw the red spot on her eye that indicated that her blood wasn't clotting, I did something selfish.  That afternoon was the day before the first day of school.  I went out with my sister and brother in-law.  We went to foot acupressure and Vietnamese lunch.  It started storming horribly, and I didn't rush home.  Normally I did, because Lola hated storms.  They scared her to death.  I didn't rush home that day.  I let her stay at home, afraid.  

"TEACHERS:  do not walk your students in front of the school until further notice."  the announcement called.

My kids and I were walking through the interior front of the school when we saw a giant racoon walking around out front.  Casually.  In the light of the day.  I took pictures of it and texted my sister.

"Poor thing is probably hungry."  she responded.  

I took my kids to the trailer.  My mind started going in circles while they practiced their phonics.  I took out some cherry tomatoes and almonds that I had packed with my lunch and put them on a paper plate.  

"Keep doing what you're doing."  I said to the kids and ran around the side of the building.  I placed the plate by the dumpsters.  I didn't want to encounter a rabid racoon, but was hoping maybe he would drift away from the front of the school and snack a little.    While I ran back, I saw all of my kids on the patio of the trailer, watching and waving. 

The day my baby died, we gave her her favorite treat, these big breath bones that we gave her to keep her fresh.  She didn't eat them.  She walked around, burying them in the yard.  She used to do that with things that she really loved.  We were so scared, so unsure of what to do that day, but every part of what she did told us that something was very wrong.  Sometimes I have dreams that I made a mistake, that I killed my dog unnecessarily, but at least, when I wake up, I know it's not true.  Two nights ago, while I slept, I woke up because I heard Lola's toenails clicking, the noise she would make when she walked around the house.  Temple was in bed with us and either way, I knew it wasn't her.  The sound was different.  I miss my baby.  

I sat at my desk, reading our weekly Monday teacher announcements.

"TEACHERS:  do not feed wild or stray animals for the safety and security of our students and staff."

I felt my face get a little red, even though no one else was there.  

And then, I thought it might be the best thing to be called out for, picturing myself as Snow White with birds on my shoulders.  I was also glad they hadn't seen the new lizard that had moved into Steve's old moss-floored box in my trailer.