In my memory she said, "Go play." I heard the granted permission and took off. I was in a bigger world than I had known, and the chance to explore it had just been given. Even then I knew not to miss an opportunity for adventure.
But in her memory those words were not spoken. In her memory she turned around and I was gone. She called security and described me in a panic. "She's four feet of innocence and is missing a tooth, but that doesn't keep her from smiling."
I ran around with children I did not know but did not need to. While I had the time of my life, my life flashed before her eyes.
It could not have been five minutes before I grew weary of playing alone and went to find her. In my memory is the surprise I felt when she hugged me tighter than usual. In her memory is the lesson never to look away.