Turn 187 of 233

Kimo start's calling Sina Auntie. She cries

They are at mile five and the grass is the thing under their feet and the feet are the thing that are bare and Sina is running beside Lena and the beside is the thing that is the pace they share. Kimo is in the stroller and the stroller is the thing he has been riding in for five miles and the five miles is the thing that has put the world past him at eight miles an hour — trees and birds and the light coming through the oaks and the light is the thing he names. Tree. Bird. Sun. The naming is the thing he does now the way he breathes, automatic, the mouth finding the word before the mind decides to speak.

Sina drops back to run alongside the stroller. The dropping back is the thing she does when she wants to be near Kimo and the near is the thing she has been since the first visit to Gainesville when she put her hand on Lena's belly and the belly was the thing that held him. She runs beside the stroller and her breathing is steady and the steady is the thing that is eight miles in and the eight miles is the thing her body does without strain. She looks at Kimo and Kimo looks at her and the looking is the thing that is the face — his face open, her face warm, the two faces doing the thing faces do when they recognize.

"Auntie," Kimo says.

The word comes out clear. Not Gampa. Not Ganma. Not Mama. Auntie. The word is the thing he has not said before and the not before is the thing that makes it new and the new is the thing that lands on Sina like the thing that is the weight and the weight is not the pounds. Sina's stride breaks. The breaking is the thing that is the stumble and the stumble is not a fall — it is the thing that is the feet losing the rhythm because the rhythm is the thing the body does when the body is running and the body is not ready for what the mouth said. She stops. Lena stops. The stopping is the thing that is two women on a grass trail at mile five and the trail is the thing that is quiet and the quiet is the thing that holds the word.

"Say it again," Sina says. The saying is the thing that is the same thing Samuel said and Janet said and the same is the thing that is the parents and the parents are the thing that want the name and the name is the thing Sina is wanting now and the wanting is the thing that is the crack in her voice.

"Auntie," Kimo says. "Auntie run. Auntie fast too."

The too is the thing. The too is the thing that is the same word he used for Ganma — Ganma big too — and the too is the thing that says you are in the category and the category is the thing that is the people and the people are the thing that matter. Auntie run. Auntie fast too. Sina is in the sentence and the sentence is the thing that is the meaning and the meaning is the thing that says Sina runs and Sina is fast and the fast is the thing that is the same as Mama and the same is the thing that is the together.

Sina's eyes fill and the filling is the thing that spills and the spilling is the thing that runs down her face and the face is the thing she does not wipe because wiping is the thing that stops and she does not want to stop. She is crying on a running trail at mile five and the crying is the thing that is not sad and the not sad is the thing that is the word. Auntie. She puts her hands on the stroller and her hands are shaking and the shaking is the thing that is the joy and the joy is the thing that is the sound she makes — a short, broken sound, the sound of a woman who had a brother and the brother died and the brother had children and the children call her auntie and the auntie is the thing she has been and now is again from a different boy on a different trail.

"He called me Auntie," Sina says. The saying is the thing that is the wet and the wet is the thing that is the voice and the voice is the thing that Lena hears and the hearing is the thing that Lena knows. Lena puts her hand on Sina's shoulder and the shoulder is the thing that is bare and the bare is the thing that is the skin and the skin is the thing that is warm and the warm is the thing that says the thing the hand can say without the mouth.

"He knows who you are," Lena says.