The moment she saw me, her face lit up.
She ran straight into my arms.
I knelt and held her tightly.
For five years, I’d believed I would never hold my daughter.
Now she was wrapping her arms around my neck.
Alive.
Warm.
Laughing.
And completely unaware of the impossible journey that had brought us together.
I closed my eyes.
I wanted to tell her everything.
That I had named her Lucy.
That I’d spent five years mourning her.
That I had imagined her growing up in countless different ways.
But I knew she wasn’t ready for those truths.
So I simply held her.
Then Ellie pulled back.
She studied my hair.
“Auntie Claire, can you make mine look like yours?”
I laughed through my tears.
“Of course, sweetheart.”
“Two pigtails!”
“Wouldn’t dream of anything else.”
She hurried away and returned with her ribbons.
I sat behind her at the kitchen table.