Jennine, I think of you as I turn off Super Why and load Carlos into the wagon and pull him to Feller Park, the park where wasps attacked us last summer by the stinking water fountain and dying grass, where we can see the top of downtown Sacramento; I think of you all morning and relive last night, mid-Skype session, you in Afghanistan, in your green flight suit, your brown hair pulled back, when you asked me how I missed you, not if I missed you, but before I could answer I heard the incoming-mortar alarm through my tiny computer speakers and watched you jump away from the screen before the signal died.
