Tati is too small to be of much help, so I end up carrying everything down from the attic in five trips. Then, there are several more trips down to the main floor sitting room where Tati wants to put the tree.
Right in front of the window, she signs, standing back and holding her hands up like a frame. She looks so old. So much more mature than any seven-year-old I’ve ever known before.
Maybe I only feel that way because I love her.
I knew I cared about Tati, but now that she’s the only person in the house who is talking to me, my love for her has cemented in a way that I know will break my heart when I have to leave.
Dmitry didn’t find out about our trip to the hospital. I didn’t tell Tati not to tell him, but being the clever girl she is, I think she knew it was a secret anyway. Besi
