Stella
Dear daughter, Six years ago today you were born. Six years old. That would be grade one. You’d be printing out your letters and sounding our your words, counting on your fingers and hoping for a treat in your lunch kit. You’d be tagging behind your big sister out on the playground and asking for a push. You’d be squabbling over toys and breaking off the ends of Nora’s pencils and teasing the cat. You’d be asking to walk the dog, you’d be falling on your skates, you’d be drawing stars beside your name: “Stella. Stella. Stella for star.” My…