11.09.2023

Oh Mila bug... you would have been 13 this week. I painted a rainbow-colored stone with your name on it and Azlan left it on your sculpture. I drove up the mountain and rode the carousel we loved to ride together, with Gretchen who helped me take care of you by my side. And I walked through the trees, alone, my hand squeezed around my sleeve pretending it was holding yours, and told you out loud what's happening in my life. At night, I snuggled up with your favorite hippo blankie and Olaf the snowman. It was the closest I could come to spending your birthday with you.

10.02.2023

Today, I stopped by to visit Mila's sculpture. I parked my car and walked through the playground, along the path and around a turn, and there she was.

Only now do I realize how much I needed this place. A place to come and sit. A place to watch kids run and climb, then pass by Mila and her fox and stop. They reach out and touch her legs, her fingers, the hummingbird's beak, the fox's ears. Each time I visit is different. The lighting, the noises, the passersby who pause and look. I try to imagine the sculpture in decades to come, well past my lifetime and even Azlan's. New children discovering it, climbing on it and adding chapters to the never-ending story of the Adventures of Milabug.