"When I was born," she said, "the doctor broke my legs by accident when he was pulling me out. Once I fell at a park near my grandma's, and the bone split all the way through."
She mimed a line across her thigh. She smiled.
"And I didn't scream."
At Nelson Elementary School in Niles, where she just finished fourth grade, she and her teachers hand out fliers made by her mom.
"Telling kids not to push me," she said, "not to squeeze me, not to high-five me."
And she feels lucky.
"Some kids," she said, "break their ribs just breathing."
Art, at least, is easy on the bones, and Hanna loves making it, so when her mom mentioned having seen the mosaic along the road, Hanna immediately said, "Do they take volunteers?"
That's how they wound up on Peterson Avenue on a hot summer day and how the figure on the wall that was designed to be a man turned out to look a little bit like Hanna.
When Van Duinen thinks about Hanna's part in the mosaic, he thinks of it as proof of the kind of community art can build.
Hanna's mother thinks of it as hope. How astonishing that her daughter, with all her struggles, could stop by the road one day and make a piece of art that will be seen for a long, long time.
As for Hanna? She boils it down to one word.