Mabel never asked for expensive things.

She wanted me to watch her jump over cracks in the sidewalk.

She wanted the purple plate, because she had decided purple made carrots taste better.

At bedtime, she wanted to tell me the same elaborate story about a rabbit who owned a bakery on the moon.

I listened every night, even when I was tired enough to sleep standing up.

For a long time, I told myself that was sufficient.