The glowing hand, the blue dress, lit with starlight...reaching towards me. And then the voice. 
      
      “A gift...Rosie, a gift...For your birthday...”
      
      “I’m seven.” It had been so long, so long. The light glowed and dimmed, glowed and dimmed. It was blue. Her favorite had always been blue.
      
      “Yes...for your birthday...a gift...what is it that you want?” Her voice got louder and faded, like the light. I searched my mind and came up empty, like putting your hand into a crayon box and finding that there’s no blue. Only one thing, shining like this great, blue light.
      
      “All I want...is you. I want you to come back.” She was crying now. I wanted to hug her, to comfort her, but this was a dream, and I couldn’t move.  
      
      “Oh, dear...I’m so sorry...I was so selfish...oh...but I cannot come back. Is there anything else, any gift I could give you?” And then, something else came, sending stabbing pains through my legs and up my spine. I was afraid I would wake up soon.
      
      “What do you want to give me? I only want you, Mommy.”
      
      “That I cannot give you, but your gift...a surprise...soon...you will come...we will be together...one day...I love you...”
      
      The pain got louder in my mind, and I knew that soon I would have to leave this place for the hard, loud, sharp world outside. Like being born.
      
      “I love you...” I said, and then the soft blue light faded and was smothered by darkness.
      
      I really knew I was awake when the sharp lady came in. Her hat was like a mountain peak, her coat was so hard, so stiff and unyielding, I was afraid it might crack one day. Her voice was not like my mother’s, it was hard and rough and unyielding, like her clothes. She checked the tubes, and fed me some things, and poked and prodded me all over. I was used to it, I just lay limp and let her do whatever she wanted, because I had learned that fighting brought pain. 
      
      But this time something was different. I could hear somebody’s voice, as if they were speaking to me, right in my ear.
      
      I hate this job. They don’t pay me enough...I should be getting a raise! God this girl’s so strange. She is cute...but sometimes I can’t tell whether she’s in or out. Maybe that’s why she’s still alive. They don’t usually live this long after diagnosis. I wonder where Fred is right now... 
      I saw a picture in my mind of a young man with blue eyes...eyes like my mother...and I felt a rush of something that wasn’t mine...a feeling I had never felt, like wanting something so much...a little like how I wanted my mother, only different.
      
      And I knew, somehow, it was the sharp lady. 
      
      My mother’s gift...
      
      Then, in came the pasty man. He was like a ball of dough, so fat and gooey. Once I had tried to knead his face, to see if it really was like dough, but he had shouted and slapped my hand away. He leaned in toward me and I heard.
      
      This odd little girl...I do despise her so... A rush of such a nasty feeling...What was that?
      
      But she’ll be gone soon...they don’t last long... He looked at the sharp lady and the feeling changed...it was almost as if he was hungry...but that wasn’t possible, he was too fat. He wanted something...
      
      Then she left. The pasty man followed her. And then it was dark. And my Daddy came. He sat on my bed. A droopy, dead feeling hung over him. But he didn’t think much. Only:
      
      Oh, Katie...If only I could’ve saved you! But maybe it’s better, with your Rose like this...
      
      Katie was my mother.
      
      He wanted my mother. I do too, I thought. I wished I could tell him.
      
      Then one day, the pain wouldn’t go away. It was everywhere, and it wouldn’t stop.  The pasty man came in, and the sharp lady, and another lady, and their thoughts were frantic and loud and confused.
      
      Then, for a while, all was black. I was glad. Black meant no pain, and it felt good not to have thoughts.
      
      Then, one day, I woke up. My Daddy was there, and he was crying. I tried to speak-- Daddy, it’s ok...I’m ok!
      
      But something was different. I was not lying in a bed, but there was everybody down below. My first though was-- how did I get up here?
      
      Then I heard the thoughts below.
      
      The pasty man: Well, that’s over. She’s gone now. Good riddance. I will get on to the next patient.
      
      The sharp lady: How terrible for that poor man. First his wife, in such a horrible way...suicide! And now his only child...that’s horrible. Though she was so odd...might’ve been schizophrenia, but with the cancer, too...
      
      Who was she talking about? I wondered if it was me.
      
      And my Daddy: Oh...I wish I could be her. 
      
       There was a bright light--blue!, and I saw my mother. And I found that all at once, I could run and jump and play and skip! It had been so long, so long. And there was my mother. She was beautiful. And I didn’t need to listen to the thoughts to know that she loved me. And I loved her.
      
      I ran to her, and for the first time in so long, she hugged me close. 
      
      “I love you so much, so much.”
      
      “I love you, too, Mommy...but we have to take care of Daddy. He’s sad.”
      
      “Yes. But he will be joining us soon.”
      
      “He will?!”
      
      “Yes, and then, we will be together. Forever.”
      
      Together. Forever.
      


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	Blue, 6-8

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