Dear Emilia,
Today, you turn eleven years old.
Ten years, ago, I wrote you a letter for your first birthday. It was a letter that I imagined you might read many years from that date, perhaps...
Flowers, she tells me, cannot swim. "They look like they do, because they look so pretty in the water. But 'pretty' doesn't equal 'can,' so. You have to help them when you see them,...