Its not important to me that you believe what you read here tonight but it is important you understand that I believe it.

Yesterday was the 8 year anniversary of my Mom’s passing. Its a tough day for me and Wendy though I suspect we each recognize it in our own way. I spend the day reliving the details of the incredibly vivid, happy, full-color dreams I have of  Mom and Wendy with me, always in some house, always painting or furnishing and always a garden where we are planting and growing things. These are dreams I have almost every night and often when I wake, I want only to go back and visit those places again.

When Wendy called I didn’t want to talk, I just wanted to hug and squeeze her and go back to when we were little girls (and even still) she kept every single thing that was bad away from me. Im not always a good sister. Im weak when it comes to losing people and I wish that I were more of source of strength for her, like she has been for me. 

It is the night of Friday, January 15th, around 10:40pm. D is snoring and The Beast is snoring even louder. We went to bed earlier than normal because neither of us had slept well the night before. Tucked in with my Kindle and my tiny little reading light I am at peace and skimming my book selections. The doors are locked, the alarm has been set and we are snuggled under our fluffy down comforter. It doesn’t matter what Im reading, I couldn’t even tell you now if you asked.

Our bedroom has a recessed ceiling with crown molding around it and my eyes are drawn to the right far corner where I see a slight, flickering light- like the reflection of a candle. Looking again as the flicker gets stronger I think that I must have left a candle burning. Getting up to check I remember that I had lit no candles and I verified this by checking them just to make sure.

Looking up I still see the flicker on the ceiling and it  grows a bit brighter and starts to dance across molding and slightly down the wall almost in front of me. Im reminded of “Tinkerbell” in the Peter Pan stories as she flitted across the rooms and I step closer to the wall, looking up.

As clear as anything Ive ever seen, I see a warm yellow/orange flicker sparkling down the wall and then back up to the ceiling and then disappear. If I were tall enough, I would have reached out to touch it but then it was gone.

I stayed awake till almost 3am watching that corner and the light never came again but I am comforted by the knowledge that it happened. We may never know what such things mean to those of us who are living. Perhaps they only mean what we need them to mean but perhaps they mean even more and that is what I am counting on.

Its almost 1am on Sunday and Ive waited here in the dark for the flicker that hasn’t come but what my Mom taught us is- that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.

Tonight I will close my eyes and dream of a wild, vivid garden and Ill take Wendy there and for a while, we will forget everything except the beauty of what surrounds us and I think that Mom will be there.