Right?” Mari said, sketching quickly while she cradled the drawing so that Leda couldn’t see it. I was just a young mother trying to do her best,” Leda said dramatically, releasing the sketch to her daughter. “Yes, and I also never said I was perfect. “Mama! You said you encouraged me to start talking before I’d known much more than two winters,” Mari said in mock surprise as she reached for the sharpened charcoal twig with which she’d been sketching, and took the drawing from her mother. I did get a couple of winters respite before you started, and never stopped, speaking.” “Mari, sweet girl, I can happily say that even though you have known eighteen winters, you haven’t been able to talk for all of them. “Mama, we’ve been having this same discussion for eighteen winters.” “What? Me? Call you boring and old? Never, Mama, never!” Mari giggled and held her hands up in surrender. “Boring and old? Did you just call me boring and old?” “More like boring and old,” Mari said, eyes shining as she waited for her mother’s predictable response. “Respectful and traditional?” This time Leda offered to finish her daughter’s thought. “The ending? Really?” Leda bumped her daughter with her shoulder. “I was listening to your story and as I was drawing I decided that something was definitely left out of the ending.” “Well, Leda.” Mari used her mother’s given name as she waggled her brows at her. “Yes, that is exactly how you made Echo look, though that is not the story I told.” Leda gave up all pretense of admonishment and laughed out loud. “Fed up with Narcissus and his ego?” Mari offered. “You made Echo look-” Leda hesitated, obviously searching for the right words. And he has a mustache and a silly look on his face-though I do admit it is an amazing talent you have that can bring a silly-looking half flower, half man, to life.” Leda pointed at the sketch and the ghostly nymph who Mari had somehow made to look bored and annoyed as she watched the transformation of Narcissus. “Well, with several other parts of his anatomy.

The same with his-” Leda stifled a giggle. He has one hand that is a leaf and the other that is still a hand.

“Mari, you made Narcissus look like a young man turning into a flower. “This is exactly what I saw as you were telling the story of Narcissus and Echo.” “I don’t see the problem with that.” Mari moved to stand beside her mother and studied the newly finished sketch with her. “I do tell the stories, but you tend to sketch what you think you hear.” “Well, yes,” Leda said, still trying to fix her expression to a more sober one. That’s our game, right? Our favorite game.” Mari’s mother held the sheet of handmade paper in one hand and pressed the other hand against her mouth, unsuccessfully trying to hold back another bout of laughter. “Oh, Mari! That is not an illustration from the myth I just told you.” The contagious sound of women’s laughter filled the warm, tidy burrow.

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