“So Mama, what’s it mean?”

Charlotte looked down upon her 4 year old daughter, Rebecca. Spitting image of her father, she was, or so Charlotte believed.

“John always said Rebecca got her beauty from me. What a considerate husband.”, Charlotte thought.

Rebecca stood waiting with her hands beside her body, head titled. Her green eyes sparkled with a curiosity that Charlotte loved to see. Blonde curls framed her round face and her rosy lips were pursed. Charlotte smiled at Rebecca, bent down to her level, and pushed a lock of hair behind Rebecca’s ear.

“You’ll know someday, my dear.”