1. I have a picture in my head. My daughter is standing on the stage at Larrabee State Park singing to the grass and wooly sunflowers. Her age still counted in months. Her only diagnosis being a child. She was two singing to an audience of air. Seagulls were riding the vibration and rising up on a small echo off the back of the amphitheater wall. The wheels on the bus go round and round round and round round and round. The wheels on the bus go round and round all through the town. 2. This year she celebrated her twenty-fourth birthday. Now she rides the city buses of our small town watching out the window at other people's lives. Listening to songs other people sing. She stays seated with her head resting on the glass. The street signs appear and disappear one diagnosis at a time. There are familiar messages. Slow. One Way Road Closed Not a Through Street Do Not Enter Stop. Dead End.