Nico tapped her mom's arm during story time and pointed at a cartoon ferret in a magazine.
'Can we get a ferret?' she asked, eyes wide. Her mom smiled gently and said they'd see. Nico went right back to looking at pictures of wiggly, snotty-nosed ferrets.
Nico started a paper calendar and drew a big sun on each square, coloring them all bright yellow.
When the months piled up, she still came back to trace every sun with her finger, humming softly. She even talked to the little plant on the windowsill like it was keeping the secret with her.
Nico carried around a little woven basket for a possible ferret home, lining it with a soft sock from her drawer.
Sometimes she set the basket near the plant and whispered, 'Soon, soon.' Then she went back to reading picture books about small, sneaky animals.
One evening, her mom called from the hallway with a wobbly voice. Nico ran down to see her holding something wiggly and brown.
Her mom was holding a wiggly brown creature that squirmed and stretched like a living noodle — and it had a name tag that read 'Pistachio.'
Nico gasped so hard she almost dropped her basket.
Nico sat cross-legged on the floor with Pistachio curled in her lap. The little ferret blinked sleepy black eyes at her.
Nico stroked the soft fur and whispered, 'Hi, Pistachio.'
The potted plant sat nearby. Somewhere inside, the quiet waiting finally felt like it made sense.