Born this way

“She doesn’t talk much. She just listens, intensely listens. As if I were saying something profound; or completely stupid. I don’t know. There is no problem really. I’ve heard no complaints from school. When I asked her teacher, she just said that she’s really quiet. Is it just me, I just feel as if there is something going on with her and its important that I find out.” “You’ve been reading too many weird books. Calm down. There is nothing wrong with our daughter.” I unfolded my news paper. I’d listened, commented, my duty was done. She was getting paranoid. What could a six year old be? My grandmothers ghost? If I didn’t think my daughter needed taking care of I would have sent her back to work. “But you know…” she wanted to talk more. “I’ve got to check on the roses.” I folded my newspaper and walked out to the garden. She was sitting in the garden. I could hear her humming. Tuneless with a baby accent. “I’m on the right track baby, I was born to be brave” My little American idol. I walked up behind her. When I was looking down at her, that when I saw it. Many things flashed before my eyes. My neighbours missing dog; the missing nails from my toolbox, the blood in the sink. I turned and looked at my wife. She was looking at me and her smile…