My Grace

Black and white fuzzy picture on the broken T.V. set

Both of my parents and the doctor are so happy to see it.

I think to myself, “Why are they so happy about a broken T.V.? “

What are they looking at?

Why do they keep asking me if I can see her?

 

I stared at the ground as I jumped over the cracks in the sidewalk while we walked back to the car.

Mom looked down at me with an overwhelming grin spread across her face; it was such a brilliant sight.

“You’re going to be a big sister,” she said.

After a moment my mouth involuntarily curled into a smile.

Even at four years old I knew that this meant I would never be alone again, a best friend just for me, my own little sister.

 

It came time for mom to leave, but She would be back soon with my new little gift.

An eternity passed, and finally they arrived home. Yet mom did not walk baring a bundle of joy, but a box she clung to tightly.

She knelt down by me as tears gathered in her eyes, and pulled a photograph from the box.

When she finally spoke, she said “this was your sister.”

 

All dressed in black we journeyed to a beautiful hill on the countryside.

I walked hand in hand with my mother to a small square slab of stone wedged in the ground, where she laid a bouquet of delicate white roses down to rest.

A gift for my gift.

 

I think of my Sarah Grace, and I see that innocent frail little being from the photograph dressed in a tiny pink robe with a matching hat. But I imagine her running around in my navy blue blouse that she borrowed last month and won’t give back. Golden Braids bouncing around her head as she runs around the yard laughing. Her voice filling the vacant space of the world with abundant life.