I caught a glimpse of you in the mirror in the hallway when I was late to class last month.
I heard your laughter when Logan gave me a kitten for Christmas a year ago, and again when he tickle-tortured me on Tuesday.
I feel you constantly when I’m at the barre and I’m working through a series of plies and coupes, perfecting my port de bras.
Little wanderer, dreaming in your daddy’s sleeping bag under a magnolia tree in Mississippi, where did you go?
I miss seeing the world through your eyes, where everything is both wonderful and strange.