for Ava Today my daughter— now twelve and already looking like a young woman— stands with me at the edge of a field. I tell her California’s mustard flowers are an invasive species first planted by Spanish colonizers so they wouldn’t lose their way. She tells me about the blue bowl she made in pottery class, that comet pieces and moons make up Saturn’s rings. I point to the park on the other side of the road, where small children climb monkey bars, where we used to play every Saturd...
