Baby Zoe,
We moved into a house farther away from work, and I can't make it home to feed you at lunch. If there's a will, there's a way. And there's Grandma Roza. Every day this week she took the bus to bring you half way between home and work. She is annoyed and amused by the unhelpful people riding and driving the bus. She is lucky if there is a Mexican on board, because they are the only ones to help her juggle folding the stroller, carrying you, the bag, and paying the fare. We meet outside the supermarket by our old apartment. I park the car and run to you, waving my arms, yelling "Zoe," "Zoe." You smile, and shake your arms, happy. After our reunion kisses, we sit at the picnic table and start with the milk. Then we move on to your homemade baby food. When done, we check out the big green watermelons piled outside, and tap them with our hands to listen to "tok" "tok" "tok." Then it's time for me to leave. I remind you that we will meet in the evening, after work. I wave many goodbyes as I walk backward to my car. You and Grandma wait for the bus. At first you smile. I don't know what happens after I get in the car. I wish you knew that I have to go.
Love,
Mommy.
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