Chapter 24 — Big Tower

Maya is three now.

I am writing this from a comfortable armchair on our back deck on an autumn afternoon, with the live oaks turning and the air smelling of falling leaves and late jasmine, and a few feet away my daughter is entirely absorbed in a world of her own construction.

She is lining up colored blocks along the edge of a low wooden bench, her brow furrowed in fierce concentration, her dark eyes sharp and focused, working with the total seriousness that children bring to the things that matter to them.

She is building a tower, and she is building it carefully, block by block, and when she sets the final block on top and it does not fall, when the whole precarious structure holds, she throws both hands into the air and lets out a triumphant, ringing squeal and turns to find my eyes.