She was a late talker - very late. Her first real word, clear and understandable came from the backseat of the car one Spring afternoon. "Emm-ma" she said, in an uncharacteristically calm voice. She gazed out the window and said it over and over, "Emm-ma - Emma".
This summer she had a moment, where I swear she wasn't herself. It is a very personal story and I would need permission from another mother to tell it. But, succintly put, she can feel spirits - I just know it.
And then, there was the first day of Kindergarten and the red leaf.
She always delivers her world crashing statments with such a cool, poised, matter-of-fact voice. It takes me off guard every time. To be clear - I have always believed that children can see and feel angels and spirits. And so, I have no doubt that she can see and feel Emma. It disarms me because of my internal reaction, and - if I'm being honest - my desire to possess her abilities.
My most recent article in Exhale , Breaking Roadblocks, makes perfectly clear that world-connecting is not in my skill set, but that doesn't stop me from wanting to see her - my sweet girl - just one more time.
Tonight, as I was finishing a chapter in India - The Moonstone Fairy, Bear stopped me with that calm - steady voice she so very rarely uses.
"Mom, I saw Emma last night" she said. I froze, a fairy induced smile still on my face, determined not to let her see what these words do to me.
"Oh?" was my open-ended reply. Whatever she says will be enough. I will not ask leading questions. I will not beg for information.
"Yes. I saw her right here in my blankets. She was here and over there was her crib."
I will not ask...I will not do it...oh - but I want to know.
"She smiled at me mom. I patted her belly and she smiled. I saw her in my blankets."
And then - the flick switched, as it always does - "Hey, how does the chapter end, mom? Come on - read."
My heart is bursting tonight with sadness, love and wonder. My gut is satisfied that we made every right decision when sharing Emma with her sisters.