“I want to say, ‘Goodbye,’ to Grandmommy there!”

You are sitting on the bathroom counter, watching me quickly slap color into my head before your little sister notices we left the kitchen and demands that I hold her again. The funeral is tomorrow, and I figure my purple henna hair is a little inappropriate.

I am not sure how to respond, but you move on before I can try.

”Are you painting your hair brown, Mama?”

”Yes, baby. The purple was a little silly.”

”Yeah, it was.”

You look down at your dangling feet as I drop a big blob of dye.

”Oops. Oh, it landed on the towel. That was funny. I don’t want it to get on me.”

”It won’t. I am almost done. I forgot I had short hair when I mixed this—this isn’t going to take nearly as long as last time.”

”I love you, Mama. I like watching you paint your hair.”

”I love you, Edie girl. I like you, too.”