how a heart breaks

I thought I had lived pain before. Thought I knew what it meant to hurt - but I didn't, not really - not until today.

The princess has "choice time" at school - time when they can choose to read, have a snack, draw, play with puppets, whatever . . . she usually chooses to draw. Today she brought home a stack of crayola art. One of them was a heart that took up most of the paper. In beautiful printing she had written, "I mis Mom. She is nise. You are my sekrit keeper."

My heart was full of tears and love, but the next page made me run from the room and compose myself. There was a picture of a little girl in a blue dress. A little girl looking very much like the princess. She had long blonde hair and a broken heart drawn right in the spot where hearts should be. Above the girl were the words "I will mis haveing you for a dady." There were cartoon bubbles coming from the girl's tear streaked face. One bubble said "I am so sad." The other - "I don't have a dady."

And no matter what we say, how we act, this is the way a six year old's heart breaks.