My mother is a very gifted person. She's a gifted mother, teacher, cook and advisor. But she has one gift that I've always payed special attention to, one gift in particular.
Her gift occurs when everone is asleep, including herself. My mother has dreams, special dreams.
One night, a few years ago, my mother had a dream of her favourite uncle, who left our world when I was a toddler. He was in a boat, and she asked "What are you doing here?"
He replied, "I've come to get your grandmother."
The next day, we received a phone call. Grandmother had passed.
I was quite surrpiresd and, as you can imagine, concerned when she had a dream about me. Fortunatly, it wasn't her uncle.
In her dream, she is old. Not so old that she is frail and bedridden, but old enough that I have moved out and started my own life. She receives a phone call from me. I tell her "It's time."
As she recounts her dream, Mom tells me of the excitment and joy she feels as she leaves her house and comes to mine.
When she arrives, I'm waiting for her with my husband and a baby. She always gets this look in her eye and refuses to tell me who she saw as my husband. The baby, she says, isn't my own. It has fine, dark hair and soft brown skin. I've adopted my baby, just like I always told her I would.
She sometimes gets tears in her eyes when she tells me about when she held my baby. She says that even though it isn't here with us, and won't be for amny years, she already loves this child with all her heart.
We don't know if the child my mother dreamt of was a boy or a girl, so she has named the baby Peacan, on account of its brown skin that would contrast so sharply with my own, being as paple as I am.
She often tells me that, if we had Peacan, she'd by clothes and toys for it. She's told me everything she knows about the child I know will one day be mine, that I love Peacan already. Even being fourteen, I can't wait to grow up and hold this child.
Now if only she'd tell me who my husband was . . .
