Rose
“Mommy?” Susie’s brow scrunched a bit, seemingly deep in thought. Or maybe she was just squinting against a stray hair. I tucked a lock behind her ear and kept brushing.
“Yes, baby?”
“Why are we here?”
“Do you mean, right now? We are getting you ready for school.”
“I know that. But more than that.”
“More than just school?”
“Yes. I understand I have to learn stuff. But why do I have to go to school? I know lots of stuff already.”
“I know that is true. You show me and Daddy that every day.”
“She knows lots of stuff, too.”
“She? Who do you mean?”
“Umm, the big me.”
I paused mid-stroke, the brush hovering over her shoulder. She said it so casually, as if she were talking about a friend from the playground. “Ah, I see—Does she talk to you about why you are here?”
“Umm… I guess. Not all the time. Sometimes the old me shows me stuff she calls ‘our lessons.’ It is like school.”
“Ah, maybe I understand what you are saying then. You wonder why you have to go to school here and wherever you go with your older self—Is that true?”
“Yes… I’m not complaining. I am only curious.”
“Your questions are what make you, you, Susie. Maybe you can see that ‘other you’ because you’re so good at looking for answers.” She cocked her head to the side, searching her own eyes in mirror’s reflection as if looking for the ‘big’ version of herself.
“Mommy, how do you know that?”
“I know because I remember hearing how it was for Grampa Matt and Lisa when they were your age. They had the same realization of who they were; that they had lessons to learn in their other existence.”
“Am I like them?”
“Sweety, I’m not sure about those things, but I suspect that to become that other version of yourself, you have to do well in school here as well as there.”
“Mommy, do the other kids go to school in other places like me?”
“I don’t know, sweety. They may.”
“Did you? When you were small, like me?”
“You know what, Susie? I don’t remember. But Grandpa Matt’s friend Lisa didn’t remember until he started working with her, so who knows?”
“I think Dad is starting to remember; he had some exposure to the concepts from Emily and Thomas, and later with Matt. I might be able to help both of you remember.”
The transition was that fast… My brushing stopped, my hand trembling. “Maybe—Maybe you can.” She didn’t look like a child in the mirror anymore; her eyes held a weight that didn’t belong in an eight-year-old’s face.
“I will see what I can do. And Mom, I know you and Dad were concerned about how this is impacting Susie—don’t worry about her. She is adjusting well, and knows to keep certain aspects of her other self private.”
“Thank you for sharing that, Susan. We were worried about that. This is weird…”
“Yes, it is strange for me as well. Susie is aware I am here, of course. Oh, Mom, it’s getting late. We should go…”
Memory is the Key 