The Bit Jar.

Beautiful words from a lovely friend and her very special daughter – both braver than they realize.

The Manifest-Station

The Bit Jar. By Rebecca Kuder.

“Will her fingertips ever grow back?” my five-year-old daughter Merida’s friend Sophia asked me.

Her mother Vanessa and I were perched on the sofa, watching our children perform a play. Created by three young acrobats clad in butterfly and fairy wings, the play featured flips on hanging rings, trampoline jumps, and tightrope walking. The children wore red, green, and goldenrod silk squares tied around their heads, like pirates. Sophia’s older brother William wrapped more silk squares around small yoga balls, and launched them at intervals behind the scene, the rushes of color making a backdrop of motion. Sophia had stopped mid-jump, to ask about fingertips. The other children had also stopped.

“No, they won’t grow back,” I said.

“Does she remember?” Sophia asked, her voice quiet.

“Ask her,” I said.

“Do you remember?” she asked Merida.

Merida nodded.

“Did it hurt?”

She nodded again.

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About clpauwels

Author; teacher; seeker of truth about life, the universe, and everything
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