Unselfconscious, yet so very aware of her pull, aware that somehow, mysteriously, her presence shifts the tides, she hurtles through space, flings herself into the air, and knows without doubt that arms will stretch to catch her before flight turns to fall.
She caroms from place to place, wee juggernaut with a maniacal giggle and feral grin, she knows without knowing that tears are not supposed to fall so often, and with a tenderness belying her scant years, she reaches to wipe them away before whirling back into her dance-of-the-rooms.
Irresistible, she pulls her brother into her pattern, making him her landing zone, her tormentor, her plaything, her conspirator.
In the midst of it all, in the chaos and confusion, in the place of the lost, it can seem like too much.
And then...she laughs...