I was ten years old when I was put on a plane to fly across the country and live with a Father I'd never met before. The few things I knew about him, which my social worker had told me, was that he was a veteran and he lived on the other side of the country. Social services had a hard time finding somewhere to place me after her death. My mother, who’d just passed away in a car accident on the way to work, had no immediate family. It was then determined that my Dad would take me. To this day I still can’t figure out why he’d even agreed to do this.

I had many different ideas and fears about what he would be like but in reality he was simply, well, disappointing. Ever since I’d arrived at his doorstep, he’d treated me as if I was some unwanted pet. He tolerated my existence and kept me fed, but it was clear that would be the extent of our relationship. I still clearly remember the day he picked me up from the airport. He was waiting for me and my airplane escort at the end of the terminal and already seemed tired. I was a scared little kid, but he just gave an annoyed sigh as he led me to the car.

"Look", he said bluntly as we were driving to my new home. "I don't really like kids. I'll do my own thing, and you do yours. Deal?"

Not knowing how else to respond, I nodded nervously in the back seat.

"Good." He said, glancing at me in the rear-view mirror.

If I was disappointed in my father, I was twice as disappointed in the house. While the outside looked small and unassuming enough, the inside looked like it'd never seen a broom since the day it was built. Dirt matted the carpets and ugly stains dotted the frayed wallpaper. The house constantly smelled like rotting wood and unwashed dog even though we didn’t own a dog. My "room" turned out to be a single mattress in the attic.

True to his word, my Dad ignored me and did his own thing most of the time. His routine was surprisingly simple. He’d spend most of the time watching TV and sipping beer, before going out to a bar in the evening and coming home late into the night. He was never physically abusive and he didn’t mind if I hung out in the living room with him as long as I was quiet, but the way he sighed whenever I asked for something or was too loud hurt.

Naturally this wasn't exactly a prime environment for a grieving ten year old. I spent a lot of time in my “room” crying, but it was too hot and muggy up there to even do that properly. So much of my time was spent outside.

As much as I hated living there, I will say the backyard was fantastic. The yard was huge, with a thick forest that choked the edges of the large mowed lawn. I spent a lot of time exploring. The bayous and swampy forests were magical. I’d like to pretend I was an explorer discovering a new land, each ancient tree becoming a mystery, each animal calling or tadpole a new discovery. And every time I went deeper and deeper in, it was like I could leave my grief behind, if not for a moment. One day on one of my little outings, I happened upon a large clearing with an ancient willow tree, its arms stretching all the way to the ground as if they were too heavy to bear.

But what I spotted on one of its branches made my heart stop. It was my mother, dressed in one of her favorite sun dresses, humming a tune to herself and gently swinging her legs back and forth. I could only see the back of her but her profile was unmistakable.

Shock and fear electrified my brain. Something primal inside me was screaming at me to run away. I knew this was impossible, that it was a breach of nature. It had to be an illusion, there was no other way. But I didn't care. I burst into tears and ran to her, flinging myself on her and wrapping my arms around her waist.

I completely broke, telling her how much I missed her and how much I wanted to go home. I promised I’d be a better daughter if only she’d come back. I told her I needed her and it was ok if we didn’t have that much money, just please come back. She petted my hair gently as I bared my soul to her. Despite the situation, I cried so much and fell asleep. When I woke up she was gone.

The past month I had been escaping to the swamps, heart heavy, with no ambitions except to get away from the day. But ever since I saw her in the woods, there was a change in me. I suddenly had a mission. I didn’t find her the second day, but the day after I found her in the same wooded clearing. She was turned away from me and the sun illuminated her yellow sundress. My heart jumped to my throat when I saw her. She turned to look at me, looking the least bit surprised.

“Hello.” I said quietly.

“Hi.” She said in my mother’s voice. But there was something off about it, it sounded colder than how I remembered she spoke.

“Can I… sit with you?”

She nodded.

I walked over awkwardly and sat. Now that I was here, I didn’t know what to actually say. As you can imagine, the whole scenario felt incredibly odd. However, the longer I sat with her the more I realized something.

“You’re not really my Mom, are you?”

“No.” She replied in a calm, mellow tone.

“Then, who are you?”

Silence lapsed between us. She stared off into the distance with an unreadable expression. I tried a different question.

“Then, do you have a name?”

She was quiet for so long that I didn’t think she would respond when she answered.

“Sarah.”

“Alright then. Um, Miss Sarah.”

I began asking her more questions but she either didn’t reply or her replies were short and slow. Instead, I started to talk about myself, if not to ease the awkwardness of it all. We talked for a good while (or rather, I did the talking) before the light grew dim and the forest started turning to twilight. I eventually decided to go home, but before I left I asked if I could visit her again and she agreed. I knew visiting a mystery woman in the swamp who looked like my dead Mother was well, a dumb and dangerous idea, but I couldn’t help myself. This wasn’t the type of thing I could just ignore and it wasn’t like I could tell my Dad about it, so despite my unease I kept visiting.

My fake Mom, or Miss Sarah, wasn't the only interesting thing that happened that week. I went downstairs one morning to find my Dad and a stranger talking in the living room, packing bags for what looked like a hunting trip. I was surprised because I'd never heard my Dad talk so much, or sound so happy for that matter. The stranger turned to look at me when he heard my footsteps and looked at me in curious surprise.

“Who’s this?”

“Oh that’s just Lacey. Darline’s daughter, you remember Darline right? Uh, my kid.”

“I have a niece?” Said the man excitedly. “Why, you should have told me!”

He walked over to me and shook my hand, and I was introduced to “Dale”, my sudden surprise Uncle. At first I had a positive opinion of my Uncle, as weird as it is to say it now. I was a kid who had suddenly lost her only parental figure, and Dale stepped in with all the sympathy and attention I was looking for. However, I became weary of him long before he had actually done anything.

For one, if there was one word to describe my Uncle, it would be slimy. His hair was lank and greasy, and he’d often wipe his sweaty hands on his filthy pants, which did nothing but smear the grime around even more. I’d never seen him change out of his camo gear, and considering his stale smell of weed and alcohol, I was sure he never washed his outfit. Still, I wouldn’t have minded if he didn’t feel a little… off.

As a single mother raising a young daughter, my mom had made it her mission to drill in my head the concept of “tricky people”. And Dale hit all my warning sensors for a tricky person. His hugs were always a little too long, he’d casually touch my shoulders from behind when I was sitting down asking if I was feeling “tense”, and he wanted me to sit on his lap when we were in the living room watching tv. For an Uncle who’d hadn’t shown up once during my time there except for the hunting trip, he had suddenly started showing up everyday. Still, it seemed to make my Dad happy he was around and I was afraid to make a big stink over nothing, so I kept my unease to myself and spent more time outside.

On the flipside, I was making great progress with Miss Sarah. I was uncomfortable and nervous at first, but I realized rather quickly that she meant no harm, and I began visiting her every day. She didn't say it but I could tell she liked the company. However, there was one obvious glaring question that I couldn’t get out of my head.

“Why do you look like my mom?”

“To hunt.”

“To hunt?”

“Yes.”

I didn’t get it.

“Are you hunting me?”

She gave the faintest of smiles.

“No.” She said, “You aren’t something to hunt.”

“Then, can you…please stop looking like her?”

She seemed surprised. “You do not like it?”

“No. Because… because, well- you aren’t her!” I said with a big sob. “I know my Mom died, I-I’m not stupid. But every time I see you it makes me think of her. Like I can almost pretend it’s really her. But you’re not her Miss Sarah. You’re n-not. I’d rather you just look like you.”

She sat there quietly as I sniffled.

“I see.” She said simply.

And then the strangest thing happened. My brain felt hazy and I stared into space, and then a moment later I snapped back to normal. I looked over at Miss Sarah only to see that instead of my mother in a yellow sundress, it was a woman of indeterminate age in an old tattered dress. Her skin and hair were dark and while she now looked quite different from my mother, she still had the same quiet, unreadable look in her eyes.

“Is this what you really look like? You’re pretty.” I said.

She smiled and patted me on the head.

Meanwhile things were getting increasingly more suffocating at home. Dale practically used Dad’s home as his own now, and he liked to come over when Dad was off to the store to “babysit”, which made me increasingly uncomfortable. Still, I think I could have put up with it if it wasn’t for what he did next.

Even years later I still remember crystal clear when it happened. Dad was out doing who knows what, and like normal, I was by myself. On that particular day I lay slouched on the couch, watching tv with the rotating fan pointed towards me, and all doors open, trying to escape the muggy summer heat. I heard the sound of tires spitting up gravel, and saw a familiar red pickup truck pull into the driveway through the window.

A moment later Dale walked in, two large plastic bags in his hands. I sat up and he gave that familiar rat-like smile.

“Hey Sweetheart.” He said. “Hot as shit eh?”

“I guess.”

“Well turn that off and look what I got yah.”

Curious, I did what he said and walked over to him. He was kneeling on the floor and focused on digging out something inside the plastic bag. After a moment, he pulled out a tiny wad of fabric and handed it to me. I unfurled it and realized it was a bright pink doll shirt with the words Baby stenciled on it in glittery silver. I looked at him confused, but he just grinned at me excitedly, expectantly.

“Well? Try it on!”

“This?!” I said in disbelief. It was at least two sizes too small, and the end of the shirt wouldn’t even cover my belly button.

“It’s too small!”

“It's supposed to be like that. Come on, it's what all the girls wear these days. But if you don’t like that, I have other things you can try on, look!”

He started rummaging through the bags and pulling out items one by one. My stomach dropped as he lay them out on the floor.

There was a skimpy sailor outfit with a skirt way too tight with a matching heart shaped gartner, shorts that bordered on looking like underwear, a couple risque looking dresses, some crop tops, and of course various types of underwear that he made sure to express were specially handpicked by him.

“So, what do you want to try on first?”

“None of it.” I said staunchly, nervousness flaring in my gut.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that. I spent a lot of time- stop backing up! -picking these out. Just try on something.”

I kept denying, but Dale kept insisting. I tried to hold out, but Dale was getting more and more forceful with his urging. There was an undertone of aggressiveness to it that scared me, and my nerves were threatening to swallow me.

“Ok.” I said meekly, just wanting to get this nightmare over with.

“Excellent!”

I looked over the collection and picked out what I deemed to be the most appropriate looking item; a red wine spaghetti strapped sequin dress. I turned towards the direction of the bathroom when Dale grabbed my arm.

“Where are you going?”

“To the bathroom.”

“No, you’re going to put it on here.”

“What?!”

“I want to see you put it on. So I can make sure you are putting it on properly.”

We broke out into an argument again, but this time Dale was out of patience. His tone flared right up into that angry undertone again, and he started shouting and waving his arms in an agitated manner.

“Put. On. The. Dress. Put on the dress! The underwear too! I want to see you put it on!”

I shook in place, sobbing and gripping the dress as he increasingly grew angrier and angrier.

“What’s going on here?”

Dale’s head whipped around to see a concerned and confused looking Dad standing in the doorframe. Neither of us had heard his car pull up, but a sudden sense of relief flushed through me. Dale’s eyes went wide.

“I bought Lacey new clothes for school and she hates them.”

“What? Is that true?” Dad said, looking at me.

“N-no!” I managed to choke out.

“I thought she probably didn’t have a lot of clothes now since she moved, so I wanted to be nice and buy her some. But she hates them. They’re not stylish enough for her.”

“Lacey!” Dad barked, frowning.

I wanted to defend myself, but it was like there was a large golf ball in my throat, and the words simply wouldn’t rise.

“Your Uncle goes out of his way to be nice to you, and this is how you act?” He began stomping over. “You’re such an ungrateful…” his tone trailed off once he got close enough to actually see the clothing laid out on the floor.

His eyes widened and he stared at them. Dale tried to hastily stuff them in the bag and quickly said, “I don’t know what kids like these days so I only got what the female clerk recommended to me. I just got what she said to get, but I don’t really know what kids like these days, you know?” He gave a nervous laugh.

Dad was quiet for a moment, then said, “Lacey got to your room.” His tone had lost almost all its previous anger however.

He didn’t need to tell me twice, and I gratefully escaped. I don’t know what Dad and Dale talked about, but I didn’t see Dale for the next week. Dad seemed pretty depressed about it, but didn’t talk about it so I never asked.

I gratefully regaled this to Miss Sarah. That had become our routine. I would talk and talk about whatever was on my mind and Miss Sarah would listen. Sometimes she’d ask questions and I’d answer, but she mostly just listened. I got the feeling that she didn’t know much about the modern world, since most of her questions consisted of asking what things were, such as television or electronic fans when they came up in conversation. Computers were especially hard for me to explain to her, and by the end of my jumbled explanation I wasn’t sure if she actually understood what I was saying or was just pretending to.

I stopped asking too many questions about herself however. She didn’t explicitly say it, but I got the feeling she didn’t like talking about herself, and any replies for when I did ask were usually short.

A week and a half was all it took for my Father to let Dale back over to the house. My Father had pulled me aside and said, “Look. I know what your Uncle did made you uncomfortable, but I think it was really all a big misunderstanding. He explained it to me and he really didn’t mean any harm, he just didn’t realize it would make you uncomfortable since he just doesn't get kid's stuff. He wants to apologize, so he’s coming over tomorrow.” My heart sank. I immediately tried to protest but my Father stopped me.

“If you don’t like it then you can just avoid him alright? But at the end of the day he's family.”

And that’s exactly what I did. Apparently Dale came over the next day but I didn’t see him since I was outside until dark with Miss Sarah. I came home to find a stuffed cat plush with a bow on it on the table, a handwritten letter that said to Lace, my sweetheart beside it. I threw both in the trash. Dale continued to come over after that, and I continued to avoid him. The few times I did happen to run into him, he kept apologizing and trying to “make up” with me. I was polite to him so my Father wouldn’t get upset, but I always managed to slip away back to the forest.

As much as I loved Miss Sarah, I still had many questions about her. She practically knew my entire life, but I knew next to nothing about her. Despite trying to avoid personal questions I decided to just be forward about it.

“How’d you end up out here Miss Sarah?”

I expected her to get mad or grow cold, but she never did. I wasn’t sure why I was expecting that, since Miss Sarah had never gotten angry at me before. Instead of her usual terse replies, she began to talk more than I’d ever heard her talk before. She told me about her life, way before. She told me how she used to live on a plantation way on the other end of the swamp. It was a long time ago, and she admittedly doesn’t remember much. She just remembers it was a miserable place. However, she did remember how she died. The plantation owner’s son dragged her into the swamp and raped her, then beat her into a broken mess.

“I laid there for a long time then.” She recalled. “Until the bugs began to eat away at my skin and my body began to sink into the earth. But my mind had not quite left, just slept. I lay dormant until bits of me began to slowly reassemble.”

Miss Sarah likened it to a broken mirror that had been glued back together. She was like before, but now fundamentally different. I didn’t completely understand it but I accepted it anyway.

The next morning I was in the kitchen fixing myself some leftover corn dogs and thinking about Miss Sarah. She had made my life so much less dreary these past couple of weeks and her story saddened me. I thought about what it meant to be family. She wasn’t blood but, could we really become a family?

A sudden jab pinched both my sides and I shrieked, dropping the box of frozen corn dogs. I whipped around and there stood Dale, looking down at me and smiling.

“Tickle fight!”

“GET AWAY FROM ME!”

“Come on, don’t be like that.”

I jumped back like a feral animal and nearly snarled at him, heart beating like crazy.

He frowned.

“I’m just having fun with you! I’m just being an Uncle, ok? Come on, tickle!”

“Leave me alone!”

He ignored me and came forward, arms outstretched and laughing playfully. It was anything but playful to me, and I screamed and shouted at him to stop as he started chasing me around the living room. He just laughed at my cries and continued swooping at me until I shouted,

“I’m telling Dad! I’m telling him what you're doing!”

He dropped his hands and looked annoyed.

“I’m just playing! Come on, there’s nothing wrong with it.” He took another step.

“I’m telling! I’m telling!”

“God- Stop being such a brat. I’m just-”

“Get away!”

“Come here!”

He swooped at me faster this time and grabbed my wrist before I could dodge him. He looked surprised.

“Let go!” I wailed, twisting helplessly. He watched me struggle for a few seconds, realizing I couldn’t pull away from his grasp. Then he grinned. I bit his hand.

He immediately yelped and retracted his hand, the sudden movement sending me sprawling to the floor. My bite was deep enough to make his hand start gushing with blood. His face turned to rage.

“You bitch! You fucking bitch!” He tried to come after me but I was already halfway out the door, adrenaline pushing my legs as fast as they could.

“Come back you you fucking whore!"

I sprinted blindly through the forest, tears blurring my vision. I didn’t know where I was going and I didn’t care, I just needed to get as far away as possible. My emotions kept bubbling up to the surface and I tried to drown them with my running. I ran for an indeterminate amount of time until I saw Sarah in the distance. I threw myself onto her and burst into tears, everything that had just happened exploding out of me. I’m sure she must have been surprised, but she took me and sat down with me, stroking my hair as I wept and rambled disjointedly. She let me hug her like that for a while, pouring my soul out to her.

“Oh Sarah what am I going to do? He’s going to do something to me soon, I know it. It’ll be worse. I-I don’t want to go back. I’m scared, I’m scared… oh Sarah…”

She cupped my sniffling face in her hands and brought it up to hers, looking at me lovingly.

“It’s time to go hunting.”

..

I didn’t go back home until the dead of night. By that time Dale was gone, thankfully. I didn’t sleep well that night, and many thoughts swirled fitfully in my mind. The next morning, I came downstairs to see my Father and Dale watching T.V together in the living room. Dale’s eyes followed me as I went to the kitchen to make myself some cereal.

“Mornin.” He called out naturally to me.

“Morning.” I said.

Considering Dad didn’t scream at me first thing in the morning, and the fact that Dale was wearing a long sleeved shirt even though it was the summer, it seemed that he hadn’t mentioned our little fight to Dad. I guess it would be more trouble than it was worth to try and twist what happened and make it seem like it was my fault again. He probably was afraid Dad might hear my side of the story this time. Either way it worked in my favor.

I took my bowl and plopped down on the recliner. Dale looked surprised. Usually I ate in the kitchen and left as soon as possible, wanting to spend as little time as I possibly could near him. I paid Dale no mind and pretended to be interested in the T.V. I took a bite of my cereal. I could barely taste it.

After I finished my cereal I slunk off the couch, put my bowl in the sink, and casually walked outside, taking a few steps before leaning against the side of the house. It was a good spot. It was far enough away that I could have a private conversation without Dad hearing from inside, but close enough he could still hear me if I shouted.

A minute later, I heard Dale get up, mumbling something I think was about needing to take a piss. He walked outside and spotted me, a slick smile growing on his face. Anxiety plunged into my stomach.

If I scream, Dad will hear me. If I scream, Dad will hear me. If I scream-

“Hey Sweetheart, whatcha doin’ out here?”

I swallowed. “Hey Dale.”

“Nice of you to join us in the living room this mornin.”

I looked over at the hand of his I bit. The bitemark wasn’t fully hidden by his sleeve. He noticed me looking and put his hand up to his chest.

“About yesterday, I know-”

“I’m sorry.” I blurted.

“What?”

“I’m sorry Dale. I knew you were just playing. I shouldn’t have done that. It was wrong and I’m sorry, I- I really am…”

He looked surprised, but then his smile grew wider. It reminded me of a cat after it’s caught its prey.

“Oh Sweetheart, it’s alright. I forgive you.”

“N-no, it’s not. I-I know I was wrong to do that. I should have been… more understanding. It must have hurt right?”

“It hurt a lot, it really did. I couldn’t even sleep last night ‘cause of the pain. Did you know that kissing a booboo makes-”

“I want to make it up to you. I um, I made you a gift. It’s special. Are you babysitting tonight?”

“Of course I am.”

“Good. I’ll give it to you then. Oh, but it’s uh, the gift, you can’t tell anyone about it. Since it’s special. Not even Dad. I… it’s a special surprise, only for you, you know? And you’ll have to wait ‘till it’s dark for it. You understand?”

I was terrified he’d notice how off my voice sounded, but instead he just nodded, eyes lighting up in understanding. His grin grew wider and he looked me up and down. I wanted to scream, but I held it in.

“That’s wonderful. I can’t wait, Sweetie.”

..

As the sky started turning into a wash of orange and red, like clockwork, Dad got up and stretched, ready to head for the bar.

“Be back.” He grumbled, grabbing his keys.

“Have a good time. Here- treat yourself tonight.”

Dale pulled out some cash from his slimy jeans and handed it to him.

Dad smiled. “Thanks Dale.”

Disgust filled my stomach. I’m sure Dad thought Dale was just being a kind older brother, but I knew his real intention. He wanted him gone as long as possible for tonight.

He walked Dad out and waved him off as he left for the bar, then came back in.

The look he had when he came back in made me want to run right then and there. He was grinning from ear to ear, looking as if he was finally about to eat a piece of dessert he’d been saving for a while.

“Sweetheart…” He cooed, coming closer to me, like a panther slowly zeroing in on his prey, positioning itself for the pounce. “Sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart…”

I jumped up from the couch. “Your present! I need to give your present!” I nearly shrieked, trying to subdue the panic in my voice.

“It’s outside! Remember, in the woods, I told you. W-we need to go out and get it.”

He stopped, looking amused. “Alright then Sweetheart, if you want to do it that way, I’ll play ball.”

He quickly grabbed my hand, forcing his fingers to interlock with mine. I resisted the urge to yank it away.

“Lead the way.”

Anxiety coursing through my insides, I led him outside and we started heading towards the tree line. Unfortunately however, the yard was long and Dale was impatient. As we walked, he started rubbing his thumb against the backside of my hand.

“Can I have my present now?” He said, yanking me back as we were almost across the yard.

“No!” I said, yanking forward. “Wait we're almost there!”

I have to get past the tree line, I have to get the tree line. Sarah warned me that her domain only reached as far as the tree line.

“I want my present now.” He said, continuing to grab at me.

“Please!” I said, the panic now clear in my voice.

“Don’t be so difficult.” His tone was demanding.

We struggled right at the edge of the yard, and our steps grew fewer and fewer. Terror enveloped me and tears sprung from my face as I twisted helplessly. Just as Dale grabbed my hair I heard it.

It was the sound of my mother’s voice singing.

The tone was low, unearthly and beautiful. An old rendition of a nursery rhyme my mother used to sing me as I fell asleep. Sarah, in the form of my mother and dressed in her old flower dress, stood a few yards away. The light of the now rising moon illuminated her figure through the gap in the trees, making her look ethereal.

Dale stared at her transfixed before letting go of my hair. Then his face erupted into the most disgusting smile I have ever seen.

“Hey there Sweetheart, whatcha doin out so late?” He said, but he wasn’t talking to me. He was staring at Sarah. Sarah didn’t respond, just continued to quietly hum her beautiful tune.

“Does your Mommy know you’re out here so late?... Sweetheart, where are your clothes?”

He took off his shirt and eagerly started walking towards her.

“Put this on Sweetheart, it’s chilly. How old are you? It isn’t safe for you out here you know. Come here, don’t worry. I’ll help you....”

He wrapped this arm around Sarah’s waist. Sarah grabbed his arm and started leading him into the woods. Before she did however, she looked back at me. Her brown eyes shone almost gold in the moonlight. They were cold, predatory looking. Her face looked inhuman and feral. It sent shivers down my spine. As close as we were, right now I felt as if she could seriously harm me if I approached her. It was time for me to leave. I ran back to the house and locked the door. Then I went into my room and hid under my covers, shivering like a baby animal...

Dale didn’t come back the next day. Or the next, or the next, or the next. Dad started to get worried. He eventually called the police. As the last person to see him alive I was asked multiple times by both Dad and the police about what happened that night. I adamantly stuck to my story that Dale and I had watched T.V together until I went to bed, and I hadn’t seen him after that. I was terrified they’d catch on that I was lying, but they didn’t press me too much. After all, it’s not like a ten year old kid would be involved with a disappearance case. The investigation never ended up getting anywhere.

I only asked what happened to Dale once, mostly out of nervousness the police would find him and somehow connect it back to us. Miss Sarah just smiled.

“Made into fun little chunk sizes…”

It’s been years now since that incident. I started school at the end of that summer, eventually graduated, and I’m now married with kids. That summer felt so long but now it feels as if time breezes by. I’m still in contact with my Dad but I keep the relationship at a distance. Ever since Dale died he’s been the same, but worse. He sits alone in his house all day, quietly drinking or leaving for the bar, no other joys or missions in life. I do feel a bit of pity for him, but it’s his life. As for Miss Sarah, we still keep in contact regularly.

My family and I live on the opposite side of the swamp so my Husband and kids get to see her fairly often. When I first introduced my Husband to her when we first got engaged. I was quite nervous, but he accepted her existence pretty well, and she, his. That’s when I knew he was the one. Usually I bring a picnic basket and we all have a nice lunch together while the children play. Just like when I was little I like to tell her about my day and she still listens, quietly and contently.

Miss Sarah may not be my mom, but she will always be my family.