Olivia and i are sitting on her front stoop. she's helping me with my lines. It's a warm march evening, almost like summer. The sky is still bright cyan but the sun is low and the sidewalks are streaked with long shadows.

I'm reciting: yes, the sun's come up over a thousand times. Summers and winters have cracked the mountains a little bit more and the rains have brought down some of the dirt. Some babies that weren't even born before have begun talking regular sentences already; And a number of people who thought they were right young and spry have noticed that they can't bound up a flight of stairs like they used to, without their heart fluttering a little…

I shake my head. Can't remember the rest.

Right, right, right, i say, shaking my head. I sigh. I'm wiped, Olivia. How the heck am i going to remember all these lines?

You will, she answers confidently. She reaches out and cups her hands over a ladybug that appears out of nowhere. see? A good luck sign, she says, slowly lifting her top hand to reveal the ladybug walking on the palm of her other hand.

All that can happen in a thousand days, Olivia prompts me, reading from the script.

Good luck or just the hot weather, i joke.

Of course good luck, she answers, watching the ladybug crawl up her wrist. There should be a thing about making a wish on a ladybug. Auggie and I used to do that with fireflies when we were little. She cups her hand over the ladybug again. Come on, make a wish. Close your eyes.

I dutifully close my eyes. A long second passes, then I open them.

Yep.

I made a wish, too, she says mysteriously, but she has so many things she could wish for I have no idea what she's thinking.

Did you make a wish? She asks.

She smiles, uncups her hands, and the ladybug, as if on cue, spreads its wings and flits away.

Don't you want to know what I wished for? I ask, kissing her.

No, she answers shyly, looking up at the sky, which, at this very moment, is the exact color of her eyes.