Chapter 16
For months, Audrey refused hoses.
Even garden sprinklers made her freeze.
We did not force it.
Claire watered flowers with a small can when Audrey was nearby.
Then summer came.
One afternoon I found Audrey watching two cousins run through a lawn sprinkler.
She wanted to join them.
I could see it.
She also wanted to leave.
Both feelings at once.
I sat on the terrace.
Did nothing.
Eventually she came to me.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Water won’t hurt?”
“It can if someone uses it to hurt.”
She frowned.
“But sprinkler?”
“Sprinkler is just water.”
She thought.
“Vanessa used water.”
“Yes.”
“So water bad?”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“Vanessa made a bad choice.”
Audrey looked toward the cousins.
Separating the object from the harm.
Important.
After a while she took off her shoes.
Walked toward the grass.
Stopped.
Looked back.
I stayed where I was.
She took another step.
The sprinkler swept across the lawn.
Water caught her ankles.
Audrey squealed.
Then laughed.
The sound hit me harder than I expected.
Soon she was running through it.
Soaked.
Happy.
Claire stood beside me with tears in her eyes.
I pretended not to notice.
Audrey ran back.
Her dress dripping.
“Daddy!”
“Yes?”
“I’m wet!”
“I can see that.”
“Not bad wet.”
My throat tightened.
“No.”
She grinned.
“Good wet.”
Then ran away again.
Recovery sometimes arrives in language only a child could invent.
Good wet.
Bad wet.
Same water.
Different intention.
Different safety.
I watched her play until sunset.
No towel rushed around her shoulders.
No one told her she was dirty.
No one photographed her.
No one prepared a story about why a bruise was her fault.
May you like
She was simply a little girl playing in water.
That ordinary thing felt almost sacred.
