“Did you win, Mama?”
“No, baby, I didn’t.”
Quiet. No comments. No reaction.
“I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t win.”
No comment. No reaction. No nothing.
I say it again. “I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t pass. I didn’t do it. I lost.”
Again, no comment. No reaction.
I look in the backseat.
My Cynthia, my daughter. My miracle child born on September 12th.
She’s in the backseat looking at a piece of plastic she’s found on the floor.
“Did you hear me, honey?”
“Did you hear me?” I say again.
She looks up at me with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen.
“I’m so glad you’re home,” she says.