I dream of the day our children play Ring Around the Rosie.
Under the shade of soaring cedar and pine trees, their hands interlock, the sun warms their skin and laughter floats through the air in between each new chorus. Their blonde curls fly back and forth until “we all fall down.”
This image feels like a promise, a piece of my future that is coming one day.
Floating among their clasped hands is another tiny body, a bouncy child whose feet never seem to touch the ground, whose laughter I can’t quite hear and whose round cheeks I’d know anywhere. She’s weightless and fanciful. And yet she plops on the grass right on cue with her brothers and sisters.
This is my way of making space for one of the many moments I know I’ll miss our girl the most.
It is here that I remember that we will always be in the company of an angel.