I’ve been trying to figure out how. I don’t have much strength left. Last night, I went to Mom. She started to cry and was begging me to forgive her, and I tried to tell her that it wasn’t her fault, but all I could do was shake my head, and she thought I was telling her I didn’t forgive her, and I know she feels even worse and more guilty than she already did.
It takes a lot of energy to go to her and Shadow. It’s easier to go into their dreams. That takes energy, too, but not as much. I was thinking maybe I could go into all of their dreams, Mom’s, Dad’s, Eden’s, Aunt Ruth’s, even Shadow’s. And instead of trying to tell them it’s not their fault, I could show them what happened that day, so they can see for themselves.
I know that going into all of their dreams at the same time will take all of my strength. I wonder if I can possibly do it, and also I wonder if, afterward, I’ll have enough energy left to go elsewhere. Maybe I won’t. I’m not worried or afraid. I remember those emotions, but I don’t feel them anymore. The only emotion I feel now is love. And it’s still so strong. I love my mom and dad, my sister, my aunt, my dog. Which is why I know it doesn’t matter if I use up all my energy and can’t go to the next place. I have to try.
I am very small today. I have packed myself so tight, I could be a tarantula or a titan beetle or a praying mantis. I don’t go to Shadow. He is restless, perhaps searching the house for me, but I am trying to conserve my strength.
When my family returns from the doctor, Mom goes upstairs right away. Eden turns on the TV, and Dad goes to the garage to do some work on his laptop. Aunt Ruth goes to the kitchen and starts on dinner.
I wait. And wait.
Pictures go through my mind. Picnics and finger painting and roasting marshmallows; riding my Big Wheel; riding in a stroller; rolling down the grassy hill at the park; Dad making faces; Mom striking a pose with a wooden spoon as her microphone; Eden giggling, dancing, holding my hand; Aunt Ruth rocking me to sleep; Shadow curling up next to me in my playpen, licking my cheek, bringing me his ball. So many pictures. So much life in so few years.
I know when I go, I will lose these pictures. I’ve already lost so many others. It’s okay. I know that’s part of going. And I know that even though the pictures won’t come with me, the love will. Because love is always. Love lives on.
Later, after the pictures fade, the house is dark. Everyone is asleep.
If I were alive, I would take a deep breath. But I don’t breathe anymore, so I gather up all my strength and energy and love and hold it close.
It’s time.
SEVENTY-SIX
THE DREAM
I spotted the monarch first. It was beautiful. I know you don’t like bugs, Mommy, but butterflies are bugs and you like them, right? I wanted to catch it and bring it to you, but I never want to hurt my insect friends ’cause that wouldn’t be right. And anyways, he was too high up for me to catch and he flew off the flower—you know, Mommy, the big pink flowers on the hedge?—and went over into the Martins’ yard.
Anyways, I kept going along the hedge, and that’s when I saw it. At first, I thought it was a leaf, but it was sort of shimmering, and when I got closer, I saw that it wasn’t a leaf at all, but a katydid. Right there on the hedge!
I yelled to Marco, “Marco, Marco, it’s a katydid! It’s a katydid!” I couldn’t believe it. It was, like, a miracle. Because everyone knows that katydids mostly come out at night. Well, you guys might not know it, but the ’cyclopedia you gave me, Auntie Ruth, says that katydids are nocturnal. The even weirder thing was that when I woke up in the morning, the ’cyclopedia was open to that very page! The katydid page! It was like . . . what do you call it, Daddy? Mental teleopy or something!
But there it was, sitting on the end of a leaf, its wings all green, like if you weren’t looking for bugs, you’d never ever see it, not in a million trillion gazillion years.
I stepped closer to it, but I didn’t want to scare it. But, oh my gosh, it was so cool, like the coolest thing I ever saw. I never saw one that close up before, and I wanted to get closer to it. I wanted to see the wings better, and the brown eyes and everything and see if it was a girl or a boy katydid, ’cause you can tell if you look close enough.
Just then, it jumped from the hedge and sailed over my head and landed right on the grass, right next to the corner of the path at the bottom of the porch. I ran after it, then bent down and looked at it. Away from the hedge, its wings and body looked even brighter green than before, with all these veins running through it like real leaves.
Right then, I knew what I needed. My magnifying glass! I should have gotten it before I came outside, but I forgot.
“Please stay right there,” I whispered to the katydid. I’m pretty sure he couldn’t understand English, but I hoped he wouldn’t go anywhere before I got back.
I ran into the house and up the stairs to my room. But I couldn’t find my magnifying glass anywhere it was supposed to be, not in my desk or in my toy chest, or the cubby drawers on my shelf, not anywhere. I thought maybe you borrowed it, Eden, so I ran to your room and called your name.
You were FaceTiming with your friends, and you said something to me, Eden, something I know you feel bad and guilty about, but I didn’t hear what you said, Eden, not even a little bit of it, ’cause I suddenly remembered that Daddy borrowed my magnifying glass to get a splinter out of his foot—remember, Daddy? You said your reading glasses weren’t strong enough so could you please borrow it?—so I raced back down the stairs to ask you.
I called you, Daddy, and you came out of the kitchen, and I kind of followed you, but then I realized that the splinter happened a really long time ago, and I knew I used the magnifying glass after that. You said, “Not now, Jonah,” and that was okay because I already knew you wouldn’t know where it was.
I went back outside, just really quick to make sure the katydid was still there, and he was. I thought maybe you might know where my magnifying glass was, Mommy, ’cause you always know where everything is, so I ran to the garage to ask you.
You gave me a squeeze on my shoulder, and I always like your squeezes, Mommy, ’cause I know you love me so much and you squeeze me tight, and you did right then, and then you said something about “private,” and when you said that, Mommy, when you said the word private, it was like how it is in cartoons when a lightbulb goes on above your head. I knew ’zactly where my magnifying glass was. I left it in my private eye kit! So I ran back upstairs and found it, right where you said it would be, Mommy! In my private eye kit!