We pack everything
and get ready for our journey,
when we hear something
moving down the path—
the sound of shuffling shoes
the sudden and bright flowery dress.
Lola?
She comes to the stones,
holds out a platter
where mangoes are cut into cubes.
So lovely here, she says.
Like home maybe.
We eat mangoes,
unsure of what to do next.
So quiet today?
She looks at me.
Malia laughs, pushes my shoulder.
He’s always quiet.
Then Lola stares straight at us,
her face serious, voice low.
But you won’t be quiet later, will you?
When it’s time to siiiiing?
Malia coughs up a mango,
spits it into her hand.
LOLA! But, how …
I feel a wave of fear,
a wave of relief.
Lola smiles,
rests her hand on Malia’s head.
It’s okay, anak.
Grown-ups know everything.
You are safe with me.
Sing with all of your heart.
Now, you better get going!
We ride fast down Forest Road.
How did she know? Malia asks.
I don’t know, I say.
But it feels good,
and every pedal
feels better,
like riding closer
to exactly where we are supposed to go.