Lydia sat calmly on the back of a large arm chair looking at her reflection in the downstairs window. She smiled to herself, her delicate 4 year old body wreathed in the lights and colors of our Christmas tree, crowned with the blinking dizzy noise of the holidays, dipped like a warm cookie in the smell of cocoa and mint and cinnamon rolls. She slowly came to realize that I was watching her from across the room with a satisfied grin. She turned, copied my grin, and said quietly, “I wish our eyes were see through…” in her best impression of an actual human child.
I held my smile, but squinted slight in confusion and sudden fear. “Yes,” I agreed, as one would with a dangerous and unpredictable man. “Yes, that would be very nice.”
She looked back to the window and continued slowly, “Or, you know…” She waved a graceful hand around her head, “Maybe our whole face could be see through…”
Still smiling, I pat her on the shoulder and quickly left the room.