"Clara! Clara!"
I look down at the source of the voice, a little boy with blond hair and sparkling green eyes. The boy isn't that tall. He's about as tall as my knees.
A girl, a few years older, enters the room. Her hair is jet-black and her eyes a dark brown, a worried expression written across her pale face.
"What is it, Lloyd?"
"I can't get to sleep," the boy whispers.
Taking him in her arms, the girl sits down with him.
"Clara?"
"Yeah?"
"Will you sing for me?"
"Sure, Lloyd."
I close my eyes as the girl starts humming a familiar tune, knowing every lyric by heart.
The song itself starts out soft, slow, and haunting, and it gets lighter with each verse.
I hum along.
We can't all be
What we want to see
Not all of us get what we ask for
But look, look and see
Find what you were made to be
We can't go hiding
Our heads in the sand
If the time comes
Who will take the stand?
Who keeps on fighting?
What is right
And what is wrong?
Why is it so hard to tell?
So heed this song
Listen to what I say tonight
You were made for something special
I know it, I swear
You were made for so much more
I just don't know when or where
And maybe... just maybe...
When you find what that is
You'll remember me
And thank your big sis...
Little Lloyd looked up at the girl after the finishing note, smiling.
"I like that, Clara," he murmured, "can you sing that to me every night?"
The girl smiles.
"I promise."