Kinsey told Audrey and me yesterday, "You've both had parents die but that that wouldn't be as hard as having your child die would it?" We froze for a moment and said, "Why would you ask that?" She said, "Well, it's even harder on you that I'm so sick, right?" We nodded. Then she said, "Don't worry. I know I'm not going to die." I said, "That's right buddy! We are going to win this race, no matter how long it is. No matter how tired we get. No matter how bad the medicine tastes! Right?" She said, "Right!"
Today, lying on our backs at the park watching the leaves flutter in the breeze overhead, she said she wished every leaf were a wish. I asked what she would wish and she said, "To go to Disney World." Then she said, "First I'd wish to get rid of this yucky Aplastic Anemia, but see if I were able to go to Disney World, I'd already not have it. And I'd also wish to go back to school, but if I could go back to school, I wouldn't have Aplastic Anemia. But if I couldn't have a wish to get rid of it, then I'd wish for a playground in my back yard."
I said, "Well you are one lucky girl because you get all of your wishes. First, while you have this yucky Aplastic Anemia, you're going to get a playground in your back yard. Second, you are going to get well and then get to go to Disney World and go back to school." She said, "I know, but I wish I could have all my wishes now." "Me, too," I told her. "Me too." We talked about the fact that we didn't really need all those leaves to be wishes, because we didn't really have that many wishes, far fewer wishes than either of us would have had a month ago. One wish, really, would do.
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