My husband, Peter, was putting the finishing touches on the turkey while I checked that everyone was comfortable. Little did I know that the holiday would come with more surprises than anticipated.
Our daughter, Emma, an expressive eight-year-old with endless curiosity, had been unusually quiet all evening, though she kept glancing out the window as if expecting someone, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress.
It wasn’t unusual for Emma to have her head in the clouds. I assumed she was waiting for her cousins to arrive or perhaps was just excited for the Thanksgiving meal. But as Peter offered her a smile from across the table, she didn’t smile back, and her restlessness began to tug at my attention.
I was about to carve the turkey after everyone had taken their seat, and Peter was ready by my side to begin dishing out slices when, out of nowhere, our daughter surprised us by standing on her chair.
Her tiny frame somehow commanded the entire room’s attention.
Her voice was steady but loud enough to cut through every other conversation.
“And where is SHE?!”
The room fell utterly silent. I felt my stomach drop, the kind of nauseating plummet that leaves you cold. My parents and in-laws exchanged wary looks, and even Peter stalled mid-air in what he was doing.
My brain scrambled to catch up with the moment.
Despite the knotted feeling in my chest, I asked, “Who, sweetie?” Continue reading…
