I found a picture of Nando and I sitting on the porch of the red house, flashing our plastic Easter baskets at the camera lens, dressed in something our parents pick out of sure, me in a black and white polkadot dress with lacy socks and Nando in a button up shirt tucked into his shorts, delicate smiles, not a worry in the glass sky, not a responsibility to oversea our sanity, not a fight to battle, not a devil crawling into our birth rights, only smiles floating on our chocolate faces, and long we sat on the porch of the red house, giggling with innocents, painted hugs tickling to the ground, hearts like caged birds tapping to the Mexican hat dance, lifting our sounds as we catch ourselves once more before we disappear—separately.