“Endra? When will my fuzz fall off like yours and Uri’s?” I look down at my tiny pink child and smile softly. She is dressed in a blur smock dress, holding her favorite doll against her chest. We are on a crowded transit going home from a busy day. I look around at all the people engrossed in their own worlds then look back Joji.

“In a few years the fuzz will fall off of your head and arms and you will look more like me and Uri, but you will never look just like us, my Joji.” This answer will only fuel her mind and prompt her to ask many more questions. “We will talk about it at home with Uri.”

Joji sat quietly the remainder of the ride, gently rocking her doll and staring out at the sky as it darkened over the city.

“It’s time to talk to Joji.” I whispered these words to Uri as we prepared the evening meal together. “She asked about her hair on the ride home.”

“So talk to her. She’s old enough to understand.” Uri doesn’t look up from the sink as he breaks carrots into small pieces and tosses them into the steamer.

“Uri, we need to talk to her together. What if she doesn’t understand? What if she has questions I can’t answer?”

“You can handle this.”

“No! She may be upset and need both of us. She’s still a baby and may not understand.” I am getting upset with him. “Joji is your daughter, too. We got her together and you are going to be there for this important discussion.”

His hand touches my shoulder. “Endra, Joji as not a baby anymore. And she is a very smart child.” He hesitates. “Okay. We can begin the conversation at dinner. See where it takes us, okay?”

I nod silently.

Joji sits across from me and babbles on about school, what she learned in science and history classes. I sit, barely listening, trying to decide how to breach the subject when Uri cuts in.

“So you have some questions bout your hair, huh, Joji?

“Endra told me it would fall out and I’d look like her and you.” Joji answers.