I am seven years old and the luckiest girl in the world.

            I sip tea with fairy princesses

            And spar with pirates.

            I converse with dragons and mermaids.  

            Neverland, Wonderland, and Oz are familiar territory for me:

             A girl who wields the power of imagination,

            Who trusts in dreams and stories.

            But I jealously guard my private world,

            Because no one else understands.

            My brother tells me to "grow up".

            Daddy thinks it's a phase.

            The kids at school say I'm weird.

            Only one person knows my secrets: my mother.

            She takes my hand as we board the back of a dragon

            Or step onto the deck of a pirate ship,

            Smiling in that way only she can:

            A smile that tells me I am not alone,

            That I am not crazy or childish,

            That there is no such thing as the impossible-

            Especially not for her.

            Mom can do anything:

            Defeat a battalion of evil knights,

            Vanquish a hideous witch.

            She even makes my sandwiches just the way I like them

            -with all the crusts cut off-

            Even when we're in the midst of a quest.

            There is no one in the world like my mother,

            And she is invincible-

            Until the day I arrive home to find her waiting

            Without the smile I love so much.

            My heart sinks even before she speaks-

            Because I already know her words will change everything.

            And then she does speak,

            And for once I want to be at school again,

            Because even being the baby

            Who still believes in Santa Clause

            Is a million times better than this:

            The forced cheer in Mom's voice,

            The false smile curving her lips,

            Even as she says she has to go away,

            That it might be a long time

            Before we can visit Neverland together.

            "Where are you going?"

            My voice is small, even to my own ears-

            But I feel much older.

            Ancient.

            Dread weighs my shoulders, makes my head slump.

            I keep my eyes on the floor because I can't look at her;

             I am too afraid of what I will see

            In her eyes.

            If I look,

            I know I will cry,

            Beg her to stay,          

            And I have to be strong.

            I have to prove

            That I, too, am brave

            Like her.

            That I am her daughter.

            "The hospital wants to run a few tests..."

            My chin trembles.

            "But I'll be home before you know it."

            Mom reaches for my hand, squeezes it.

            "I promise."    

            I nod, bowing my head

            So she can't see

            My tears.

            But one day becomes two

            Becomes ten

            Becomes so many I can't count them.

            And my life becomes sterile white rooms

            And stern men in lab coats

            And Daddy's shadowed eyes.

            And my brother crying.

            And Mom growing thinner

            Until she reminds me of

            A skeleton.

            Seeing her so fragile hurts

            Like I am the one who's dying,

            But there's nothing I can do to fix it-

            Except for one thing.

            Perched on the end of her bed,

             I spin tales of hidden treasure and mighty battles.

            Mom no longer has the energy to join in,

            But I know she's listening

            When her fingers close around mine

            And she smiles.

            And always,

            She whispers,

            "Thank you."

            This is how I learn that words have power:

            The power to give hope,

            To comfort hurts

            And soothe pain,

            To speak of love,

            Even when they are speaking

            Of something else entirely.

            This is how I learn that words matter,

            That magic exists,

            Even though it different

            From what I expected.

            This is how I know

            That I will never forget Mom's words-

            And that I will keep crafting mine,

            So that she will live on

            Forever.