I watch her from across the garden sat under her tree. She is unaware of my observation, unguarded. Strange, that such a normal pose surprises me. It makes me wonder what happened to her, to us so that I no longer know her mind. I used to be able to tell what she was thinking just by the tilt of her chin. The way her forehead crinkled telling me she was thinking intensely about something that bothered her, something that peaked her curiosity. But not any more. Not now. She's seen so much, much more than many humans. She's had experiences that most people can't even dream. Maybe too much for one so young, and in retrospect she is young, not even half way through her life and yet she is no longer interested in living.

I remember her first day of school. The excitement of wearing her new uniform, the nervousness at the school gates when her small fingers gripped mine for support, seeking solace. The deep breath for one so small I can still hear like I'm there now. Standing beside her with hair braided in tight plaits, a beautiful set of piercing blue eyes searching their surroundings with the knowledge of someone much older. Then I watched proud tears streaming from my eyes as my little girl walked, chin high in a determined march towards her future. I should have known then how far she'd go, not literally of course but being my little girl she did. She literally threw herself as far away as she could. I remember the day I found out that she was gone. Dead they told me, missing, gone. My world collapsed around me. Numbness clenched the pain around my heart. Looking back I think I went a little mad in them first few months. People will say it was grief, despair anything to excuse the oddities of my behaviour but I know that excuses are all they are. The thought of my child leaving this world before me cut me to shred's. I used to sit in the empty kitchen staring at the seat where she used to eat breakfast for hours. Remembering the laughter, the tantrums, the tone of her expressive voice as she learned and grew. Also how thankful I was that she had included me in that experience, that for the short time she had been here I was allowed to accompany her.

Then I found out the truth. She was alive, but so far away that the chances of me seeing her again were virtually impossible. Something changed in me that day. I picked myself up, I began to focus again. Knowing that she was doing what she always wanted. Exploring, like she used to describe. The stories she used to write of her and me, sometimes her sister and father too finding new worlds. Discovering, learning, growing together. The dream of a child. Impossible but somehow edge in my heart as my dream too. She has that power, always has. A soul so pour and open that you can't help but be entangled in her world. That is what made her so special. That is what makes now so much harder. I barely know her; this wild experience she has had, the one that haunts her so she doesn't sleep, eat, speak I don't know anything about. I know deep down, at the bottom of my core that I'm losing her. The soul is withering, disintegrating, scrambling for light in her dismal mind struggling to survive. Overridden by guilt and regret and there is nothing I can do to help. Sometimes I wish I could return to them days when she was little, before she had here heart broken, her dreams wrecked and her soul betrayed and freeze time there. Yes I'm not a fool and I know that would never happen but I can hope.

So there she sits, in the spot she's lay for the past month. Tortured emotions running across her features, trapped in her own hell. He is almost beside her now, the man from her journey. He looks strong, weathered like he too knows of this pain my daughter suffers and I allowed him in. Not because I felt they could relate but because there is a gentleness about him, in the way he moves, his voice. He has hope and I find myself latching onto him for my own solace. Like my daughter did me so many years ago. He seems to understand and I let him go returning to my spot by the window to watch.

Finally he is there, within her range and she looks up. Time freezes for me. Her face is blank, void of emotion, just the dark shadow of pain clouding her eyes which had been their since her return was visible. Then suddenly, it's as if my dream comes true, that we're back at that kitchen table and she's smiling at me. Her whole poise softens and she reaches a hand towards him, he takes it and drops to his knees beside her. It's there. The soul, the curiosity, the lightness shines through. And I know she's going to be ok. That she's going to get through this. Maybe not with my help, like she did as a child but with the support and comfort of this handsome stranger. With a twinge of both sadness and elation I let out the breath I've been holding for the last seven years. My Kathryn's finally home.