Wednesday, July 27, 2011

imaginary friend

She stretches the length of the couch, her nose buried in a book. I want to cuddle her up, nibble on her toes, kiss her neck right under her chin. She looks like a miniature woman with her long muscular legs and artist fingers. It is only her little baby belly poking out in that adorable, perfect, unself-conscious way of a four year old, that reminds me how little she is. I feel like I missed two years of her life, the ones sandwiched between Lucy's death and right at this moment. We exchange smiles.

She throws her book aside, and opens her arms. I forget sometimes that she wants me to hold her as much as I want to hold her. I feel like I am always touching her. Put her hair behind her ear. Tickle her belly. Hold her hand. Rub her back. Brush the dirt off her knees. I lie next to her. We kiss and giggle and snuggle, just under the secretary that houses her sister's ashes. We find comfort there.

"Sometimes I get sad that Lucy died, Mama."
"Me too, love."


She had an imaginary friend. On Lucy's first birthday, Beatrice's imaginary friend came for a tea party. Her name was the Other Beatrice. She looked exactly like Beatrice, she told me, except she was littler. The coincidence freaked me out.

"The Other Beatrice just kissed you, Mama," Beatrice told me. I believed her. But for whatever reason, the Other Beatrice stopped coming over to our house to play. I asked her too many questions, Beatrice told me. Her new imaginary friend started showing up a few months later for three or four day stretches.

Her name is Snowflake. She lives in China on Number One Street. She has a sister named Apple, and another named Fork. "Snowflake's sisters don't die," Beatrice explains. Snowflake sleeps over all the time. I mean for days and days at a time, because "China is very far away and her mommy doesn't mind at all." It used to be that Snowflake was her sister, but had a different mother and father. One day, she was just her friend. She talks to Snowflake, pushes  her in the swing in our dining room, runs with her like they are holding hands. She tells me stories of Snowflake. And I ask, "What does Snowflake look like?"

"I cannot tell you, Mama, because she is my imaginary friend."

Snowflake.
Snow.
Winter.
Solstice.
Lucy.

I made a promise to Lucy that I wouldn't look for her in the wind, in the ordinary, in the imaginary friends, but I want her there. In that which I know exists, but I cannot hold.

22 comments:

  1. Such a hauntingly beautiful post. Gave me chills. Much love Angie and holding Lucy dear~

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  2. What a beautiful bittersweet post.
    My eldest had imaginary friends,lots of them. Such a sweet lovely time. x

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  3. Oh, what a gorgeous, heartfelt post.
    I'm sad that Lucy died, too.
    xo

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  4. Well that one really got to me. First of all because it's so touching, but also because it reminded me of something from my own childhood.

    My mother had a stillborn son when I was 2 years old. A year or so later I had an imaginary friend. He was a boy and his name was Sammy. I now wonder if my imaginary friend made my mom feel the way you do about your daughter's friend.

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  5. So sweet and beautiful. It's amazing what goes on in their little heads.
    xo

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  6. Amazing what little minds come up with... Beautiful post!

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  7. Beautiful...

    My daughter has four imaginary friends...they also travel the world, pop in and out of the house...I love hearing about their antics and I'm more than a little wistful when months go by and she hasn't mentioned them. Then I just have to ask..."What's ______ doing lately?"

    ♡ Lucy...

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  8. The coincidence freaks me out a little too. And I do love your Beatrice, such a nice girl.

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  9. Wow. I want to see Lucy there, too. Love to you and Beatrice and Lucy and Snowflake.

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  10. Your daughters are amazing. I love Bea and the adoration with which you present her.

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  11. "Sometimes I get sad that Lucy died, Mama."
    "Me too, love."

    Me too.

    (((hugs)))

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  12. Thanks for remembering my Freyja this month. Seeing her name there, amongst all those other children lost in July, it made me cry. Not much makes me cry any more, but seeing that others remember my children too, that is so beautiful, and so sad.

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  13. "Snowflake" lead me to the winter solstice as well. I thought I might just be reading into it too much. I always imagine that our Little Kevie will dream and play with and talk to his big brother.

    Aiden is with me every day. Lucy surrounds you and Beatrice and Thomas Harry and Sam. xo

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  14. Sounds like Beatrice is on task to be an artist like her mommy! :) So creative already.
    It's so touching when the older siblings mention the babies they never got to meet.. I think it shows that we as mothers (and fathers) are doing well at honoring their beautiful memories. :)

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  15. Beautiful. It is so touching that Bea misses Lucy. Thanks for sharing!

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  16. I'd like to meet Bea, she sounds delightful. Missing Lucy with you all. xo

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  17. Beautiful Angie. Beautiful.

    x

    (www.thechroniclesoftoby.blogspot.com)

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  18. What a beautiful post. I'm so sorry you lost your Lucy.

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  19. Wow ... goosebumps. Beautiful full of love and longing.

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  20. Beautiful post Angie, as always.

    When Caelan talks about Jordan, and he reveals the impact of her loss so clearly... I feel so bad. It's sweet that he remembers her, but so very bittersweet too.
    xx

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