When I was small she had a prism hung on a cord in front of her kitchen window. Sunlight filtered through and shone rainbows on the rectangle-pattern linoleum floor. My sister and I danced back and forth, catching the light with our small feet, hearts light. She laughed, clearly delighted.

Every human woman is a complicated creature. I knew her when I was young and she was old, a great grandmother. I'm certain she had her flaws, but then, I only saw her as I did the prism: full of magical light.