Maite’s Green Converse

Chris Dickson

In the morning, before school, nine-year-old Maite grabbed a Sharpie

and drew a heart on the white tip of her green high-top Converse.

She colored the black heart in so well and bold

that the heart shined bright when light hit it.

Her mother spotted it from across the room

and asked Maite why. Because it shows I love nature, she replied.

I love nature. 

 

For breakfast, Maite always sat in the same spot.

At the head of the table, 

where the sun streamed out the window 

blessing her face and where 

she had the best view of the trees in the backyard.

She studied the way the wind moved the leaves,

a bird making a nest she couldn't wait to see finished

and the bees pollinating the garden she helped her mother grow.

Maite looked down at the black heart on the right toe 

of her green high-top Converse and smiled.

 

On the way to school,

Maite told her mother she wanted to be a marine biologist 

and how she taught a boy in class how to recycle. 

She looked out the window and saw a small brown bunny

and wondered if it needed water. 

She wished that she could give it some. It was a hot day.

Another hot day in Uvalde, Texas. 

 

By nine o’clock, she was learning to multiply by two digit numbers.

By ten, she had gotten pretty good at it.

By twelve, a shooter had entered the building

and by three, Maite’s mother identified her body.

 

Not by her face, too distorted. 

Not by her clothes, ripped to shreds.

But by her green high-top Converse that she had drawn a heart on

because she loved nature.