From the porch, Eva watched the morning mist drift, smoky and listless, across the shorn wheat fields. Her head bent over a mug of coffee, breathing in the rising steam. The harvest was just about done at her family farm. Autumn was rolling towards winter. Eva could feel the cold through the warmth of her sweater, in the tips of her fingers, her ears, her nose.

The squeak of the screen door announced the arrival of her nephew, Bran. His little, four-year-old body was kept warm in a pair of footie pajamas. He dragged his blankie behind him as he headed for her. Eva watched as he set his blankie down, and started his belly crawl to get up on the bench beside her. She moved her coffee cup out of the way as he crawled to settle in her lap facing her. ?Whatcha doing??

?Just enjoying the morning.? Eva smiled at the little boy, sliding her arms around him to make sure he didn?t tip backwards off her lap. With one hand, she helped him get the tattered yellow blankie back between them so he could hold it again.

?How come you?re not cold??

?I went for a run already this morning. Warmed me up.? Eva looked down at Bran. He looked so much like his mother, with his dark curly hair and blue eyes. She brushed some of those curls back from his forehead. ?Do you like to run??

?Sometimes.? He looked up at her, in that direct, unreserved way that only children could. He lifted his small hand and drew a tiny finger down the scar on her left cheek. Eva held still as his finger went up and down, following the straight pink line from the corner of her eye to her chin. He pulled at it, at her cheek, testing how the scar reacted to being poked and prodded. Eva said nothing, just watched him as he changed the shape of her face, the shape of her scar. Still without looking at her eyes, Bran finally asked. ?Why is this on your face??

?It?s called a scar, Bran.?

?But what?s it do??

?It doesn?t do anything.? Eva watched the little boy in her lap, her breath slow and even. She had known one day these questions would come. But she had never thought of how to answer.

?Where?d it come from??

Eva thought for a moment. ?Sometimes... sometimes when you get hurt... very badly... when it heals it leaves a mark.?

?But why??

?I don?t know.?

?Does it hurt??

Eva thought for a moment. It didn?t hurt physically. But it did still hurt. Because there were some pains that were too big to ever fully heal, some sadnesses that could almost swallow you whole. Pain and sadness that no one could carry alone. So the scar was there to tell people that yes, you had survived, but that maybe you still needed help. Even when you couldn?t ask for it yourself. ?Sometimes.?

Bran considered, and finally looked up at her eyes, then he looked back down a moment. ?Daddy doesn?t have one.?

Eva nodded. ?I know.?

?Will I get one??

?I hope not, baby. I hope not.?