Tia notices everything. She is not like me, the one who took this picture. I know that that black-shoedand black-panted person is me, and I know that I am at work,and I guess there is a child beside me. I think it was someone who had bumped her head in gym. I might be holding her hand. I probably could be telling her, as I so often do, you will be fine. But honestly, this moment, randomly caught by a mistrigger, is nothing I will ever store away, just like so much of my life. Water rushing past river rocks. Clouds passing through a sky. Days lined up, boxes on a shelf. But Tia? She would know when this happened, why it happened, and how it taught her something, or anchored her life back to its core purpose. That is one of the reasons she is good for me.
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