That mattered more than sounding certain immediately.
The roller skates arrived in September.
Ella paid for part of them with her own savings because she wanted to.
Miriam and I covered the rest as the birthday gift we had already discussed.
No one made a moral lesson out of the arrangement.
Her money was for choices.
She chose the purple pair.
At the park, she refused my hand at first.
“I can.”
She could.
For three seconds.
Then her feet went in different directions and she sat down hard.
I crouched.
She looked furious.
“With the skates?” I asked.
“With the ground.”
“That seems fair.”
She laughed.
Then held out her hands.
I helped her stand.
For twenty minutes, she moved along the path with one hand in mine.
Sometimes she let go.
Sometimes she wanted it back.
There was no price for either.
On the bench afterward, she took off the skates and leaned against me.
“Those were worth it.”
“The skates?”
“Yes.”
I nodded.
She looked at the people passing.
Then she said:
“I’m glad I didn’t use all of it for sitting.”
I swallowed.
“So am I.”
I did not turn the afternoon into another conversation about Seraphina.
We ate sandwiches.
Watched a dog chase a leaf.
Went home when Ella became tired.
She deserved days that were about something else.
The household learned too.
A cousin made a careless joke when Ella asked me to carry her bag.
“What’s that going to cost?”
He meant nothing by it.
That did not make the words harmless.
Ella went still.
I answered before she needed to.
“Please don’t joke about that.”
He looked embarrassed.
