Three Years Ago...
"Guess what finally arrived today?" Alex sing-songed, carrying a parcel into the hospital room.
Emma sat bolt upright in her bed and let out a little squeal of excitement. She extended her hands towards her mother and made grabbing motions.
Alex laughed, setting the box in front of the child and allowing her to tear off the wrapping paper like a feral beast. "Happy Birthday, Duckling," she murmured, settling on the edge of the bed beside her and gently adjusting the touque on Emma's head.
Gasping as she finally tore away the last of the wrapping paper, Emma declared, "Mama, she's so pretty!"
"She looks just like you," Alex murmured, stroking the spot behind the girl's ear that never failed to make her sigh in contentment. She couldn't help but smile sadly because there was something so bitterly cruel about having to special order a chemo Barbie for her four year old.
Emma shook her head slowly. "I'm not pretty, Mama," she insisted, "'Cause you gotta have hair to be pretty." She didn't seem to be particularly upset about this, ever a pragmatist like her mother.
Heart very nearly cracking clean in two, Alex struggled for a moment to prevent her sadness from spilling over and frightening the girl. Once she had better reign over her emotions, she said, "You are beautiful, Little Duck."
She just shrugged and Alex could tell she didn't really believe her. Not that she could really blame the child; considering grown women struggled with societal beauty standards, how could a little girl who'd lost all her hair be expected to practice self-love?
"Mama..." Emma whined. When Alex's attention snapped back to her daughter, Emma shoved a Barbie into her hand. "Play with me, Mama!"
Alex did her best to push the sadness away so she could focus on her daughter because God only knew how much time she had left with her...but it was easier said than done. "What are we playing?" she asked. (The two of them had quite the repertoire of storylines when it came to Barbies.)
"Let's play Witchdoctor!" Emma declared enthusiastically.
Alex couldn't help but laugh at that. "Silly Duckling," she said, tweaking the girl's nose. "What's a witchdoctor?"
"A witch who's a doctor," Emma said with marked confidence and blissful childhood innocence.
With a solemn nod, Alex attempted to bite down on the laugh that wanted to come bubbling up at that.
Then, Emma continued explaining, "And the witchdoctor has magic and doctoring, so she makes Barbie's cancer go 'way!"
Before Alex knew what was happening, she felt a tear escape to dribble down her cheek.