Felissa was the first of the three. She lived a million miles away in California. Melissa came later. We will have a playdate with her one day. Jafortu was the last, named after the label J42 on the back of a plate, no story.
“Felissa is visiting her grandmother!”
“Melissa was mean to me in school.”
“Jafortu likes mac n cheese just like me. ”
The sisters were always nearby but never quite here.For six months, stories of their likes, dislikes, comings and goings, speckled her 4 year old chatter.
Then last week:
“My sister’s are dead.”
“Oh no!. I am so sorry. That is sad.”
“It’s OK. Blankie, Puppy, and Other Asha are my sister’s now.”
A woven blanket. A small stuffed dog. A brown skinned, black haired puppet. Holdable, huggable, here.
THE SISTERS ARE DEAD!
LONG LIVE THE SISTERS!
american incarnations 
I am going to miss them all, especially Jafortu
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I really love your writing style, Aarati. I’ve been enjoying reading through your old posts. Lovely and thought-provoking.
Thanks Christine. What a nice thing to hear on my birthday!