Jilly Laughs and I Cry

I. Jilly's laugh is somewhere between a hiccup and a sigh teeth shimmering little porcelain cups like the ones I used in Victorian doll houses when I was five perfectly glazed and rounded. II. Her late arrival like a Picaso painting brightly colored flecks of roses and blues all feet and limbs flailing simultaneously in proportion to her belly. III. Yesterday she flew over a crack in the sidewalk. We had been eating wild strawberries, her fingers were dyed with them and her blood, it fell to the sidewalk in perfect red rain drops. I think my heart stumbled in it's puddle.