Sitting on the cold cement beside the leaf-strewn wading pool at the park, the girl picked up a purple piece of chalk and drew a letter. The first letter I have ever seen her draw.
Look, she said, W. W is for William.
She drew a letter for the boy from school. Her friend from the park. The one she likes to kiss.
Wow, I said. Stunned. Shocked that all of a sudden the letters she sees can now be formed by her own hand.
Can you draw an M? I ask.
Dragging the chalk up then down, up then down again she draws an M close to the W.
M she says. What is M for? she asks. She always asks for? what is that letter for?
M is for you I say.