Of Bob and Little Bob

A little Angel, hands o­n hips, sings, loud and clear, the “sunshine” song, and when the song has left her lips she wonders how I sang along. “My ‘little Bob without a curl’ my Mother sang that song. I knew another Bob, another girl, another Angel much like you.” She doesn’t know “the rugged cross”; your other song, (she’s o­nly three). She doesn’t know she soothes my loss with timeless magic; memories… of mother singing to her boy, of Bob and little Bob… and joy.