Ah, Child Number Three who is a mixture of Oldest Daughter and Youngest Child. The night she was born, I had a terrible dream about two opposing forces battling over my little sister and her newborn baby. It seemed as if Evil would triumph, but I came into the dream praying out loud and Evil fled. The angel who survived told me the little girl was not destined to be bound by the family curses that directed my sister’s footsteps into alcohol, drugs, sex and addictions.
I had a vague notion that my sister (who lived several hundred miles away, physically, and light years away emotionally) was pregnant, but I had no idea when she was due to give birth. So when my foster sister called to tell me that Chrystal had been born (to my sister), I was a little bit surprised. I was not surprised that she was a girl: I already knew that.
Chrystal was almost nine years old when her mother died of necrotizing faciitis (flesh eating bacteria). I had seen Chrystal three times in her life before then, all since my mother died and during trips to Nevada to visit my father: not exactly a close aunt/niece relationship. But when I arrived for the funeral, Chryssi sat beside me, holding my hand and biting back the tears she determined she would not cry.
Chrystal came to live with us when she was ten. We fell in love with her, and she fell in love with us. She is now a happily married young woman who is writing the rest of her story.