A little girl, around the age of five, walked into her kitchen to find her Mom cooking her favorite, macaroni and cheese. But she didn't want food.
She wanted an answer.
The little girl crawled onto a chair and prepared herself for her question. It was pretty significant.
"Mommy." she finally said, staring at the back of her Mother's head.
"Yes Sweetie?" Her mother answered.
"I have a question." She said simply.
"Yes Sweetie? No matter what question you ask, I will always have an answer." Her mother quoted, stirring in the macaroni into the boiling water.
"Okie." She said, looking at the counter now. "Mommy, people at school can't hear me."
"That's their loss Sweetie." Her Mom commented, sugar dripping from her voice.
The little girl didn't understand, so she went on.
"I tried to ax a question, but no won heard me." She said, sounding very adult for a 5 year old.
"That's their loss Sweetie." Her Mom said again with the same voice.
The little girl still didn't get it. She just went on.
"Mommy, people can't see me." She said, her little girl voice growing just a little softer.
"That's their loss Sweetie." Her Mom said, sounding like a recording.
The little girl just didn't understand why her Mother kept saying that, so she just kept going.
"Mommy, somone sat on me today. They didn't notice me sitting there, and they just sat ontop of me." She told her Mother, hoping to get a different answer.
"That's horrible Sweetie." Her Mom said, finally giving a different answer. She didn't sound bored, or connected. She sounded like she was listening, and it sounded like she really meant what she had said, but it didn't sound like she truly heard what her daughter told her.
The little girl went on anyway. She didn't mind, she was only 5. She didn't understand.
"Mommy, someone walked through me today. She walked right through me, and she didn't even hit me. I walked through her too, and I didn't hit her." She said, growing impatient and bored.
Her Mom stopped stirring. "Is that true?" She asked.
The little girl nodded, then aswered. "Yeas." Saying it just like that.
Her Mom started to stir nervously in the pot again. She didn't say a thing, so the little girl got to her question.
"Mommy, I still have my question." She said.
"Yes Sweetie?" Her Mother asked.
"Mommy, no one can hear me, and no one can see me, and no one can touch me..." She said, not quite finishing her sentence.
Her Mom waited. "Yes Sweetie?" She asked again.
"Mommy... am I dead?"
Her Mother stopped stirring the pot. She stopped talking.
She stopped breating.
She stood there and seemed to wait for the world to fall.
"Mommy... you have an answer... don't you?" The little girl asked.
Her Mom nodded. "Yes... I do Sweetie."
The little girl asked yet again.
"Mommy, am I dead?"