I missed my mama every day. She told me she'd have to go to heaven first, but I hadn't really believed her. Or maybe I didn't understand what that meant. Everything she told me had been true. My daddy came to take his turn when hers was over, and he brought Cora. My mama hadn't been able to tell me much about her except that she would love me. And she'd been right. Daddy and I played when he'd get home from work, but Cora was my best friend. We made scrapbooks together and told stories about our mamas, and when I wanted to cry, she didn't treat me like a baby. She held me, and she cried, too. I knew she was sad here, even if she never told me, so I took her out every day looking for a friend—not for me, for Cora. And every time I saw a shooting star, I gave Cora my wish. When I started school, I met lots of kids. My teacher said they were friends—but I didn't think if someone bit you or hit someone else that made them a friend. I thought it made them mean. Maybe Cora should t
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