Bright rainbow stripes, sharkbite hem, criss-cross
spaghetti straps—a brand new sundress
challenges her 7-year-old self.
She makes her way to the vanity area, a place of
certain assistance. Confident barefeet carry her,
but the left foot and toes jam the stationary door.
She dances around. I attempt to comfort.
It isn’t enough.
“I hate that damn door,” youthful honesty interjects.
Taken aback at frustration’s brazen color, I force
laughter into an airtight cage.
Unapologetic, striking hues, sharp bite at the edges.
This brand new thing!
The sundress too.