19 Vayasu Pundai...

Can you tell me how you died?”“I think so. My Uncle Walter started hurting me between my legs and making me bleed and I wouldn’t stop screaming and he put his hands round my neck. That’s the last thing I remember.”“How old are you, Emily?”“Six.”“How long have you been there?”“I don’t know. It feels like a very long time.”“Can you tell me what was in the news when you you died? What was top of the pops?”Emily named a pop song that I remembered well. It was my daughter’s favourite for a time. I estimated it had been current about twenty years earlier.“Very good, Emily. Now can you tell me where you are? Can you see anything?”“No, it’s all black.”“What can you feel?”Silence.“Emily, Emily, are you there?”There was no reply.As my senses retuned to the corporeal world, I noticed that dawn had broken. Perhaps Emily could only make her presence felt at night; I’d encountered far stranger constraints on the spirit world, such as a tortoise that could only move a wheelbarrow when nobody was. As I approached her, I could see that she had her eyes closed, and that her lips were moving. I settled down quietly into the surf next to her, not near enough to touch, not facing her, but looking out the way she was facing. I could faintly hear that she was, perhaps, meditating, though the form was unfamiliar to me. I closed my eyes too, though the beauty of the cove matched her own and it seemed wrong to shut it out, to exclude it, to ignore it.I simply sat there nonetheless, with the waves washing against me, so warm, so intimate. I let the wind bring me news of nectars, of overripe fruit, of the cycles of the sea. My ears were lulled by the rhythm of the surf, and pierced by the calls of gulls. My fingers met the grains of sand beneath them, and learned their squirrely ways. My toes sensed the currents of the water, even as my hair felt the different ripples of the breezes. My eyes watched the sun boil and blossom and bless through my eyelids. I forgot where I was. I forgot the.
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