Dear Emmie Blue

by Lia Louis

Even in the darkest of times, it is always important to focus, if you can, on the positives. No matter how small. No matter how few.

Because I know, deep down, I am made of strong stuff. Rebuilt with it, at least, the way we all are, over the years, with age and experience, skin thickening, heart softening, patched up double in the places prone to breakage. A sum of all the things that have hurt us, scared us, sheltered and delighted us.

Maybe home isn’t a place. It’s a feeling. Of being looked after and understood. Of being loved.

“Do you know why I like storms?” says Louise as my fingers reach for

the switch. “They’re a little reminder that we’re not at all in charge, but Mother Nature is. And while the world might not look exactly how we’d prefer it to, it is enough, if we just stop and look. The whole sky lit up. The smell of the rain. Safe inside. What more could you need?”

“I finally kissed Emmie Blue.” Eliot bends, laughing into my ear. “My inner nineteen-year-old is beside himself right now.”

“But there’s a card attached to this and you can write your wish on it. A wish for you. For your marriage. For your future. For avocados.” Marie and I giggle through our tears. “Because last time I let go of a balloon, I wished for a friend. And I got just that. So I reckon this’ll be good luck.”