text: There were worse ways to die I thought. Of course, the cancer has ravaged my body for months now. It left me bedridden. Barely eating or drinking. Drifting in and out of sleep. Too weak to string many words together. But, at least death hadn’t been abrupt. I had time to make amends. To tell people how much they mean to me. I even got to check a couple of items from my bucket list. Even today, surrounded by my family. Yeah, there were worse ways to die. I had felt the end was near for a couple of days now. I barely spent any time awake and what little I did was dimmed by the drugs that they gave me for pain. But, no amount of drugs can hide something that I knew in the deepest part of my marrow: I was going to die today. Oddly enough, I was okay with the entire situation. Dying would certainly be a relief from this suffering. My breathing was becoming more shallow. The time between breaths lengthening. I read one time that when you’re dying your body releases endorphins so that you make a more peaceful transition. I just hoped I ended up in a good place. That was my last thought before I drifted off, embracing the eternal sleep that comes for us all. It seemed like no time had passed since I closed my eyes. I slowly blinked myself awake, but the blinding lights I half-expected didn’t swim across my vision. In fact, it was quite dark. And small? I reached my arms out, trying to find purchase on something to clue me in on where I was. Both hands encountered...was that fabric? Denim and cotton and what felt like tulle. I rustled the fabrics around and heard the tell-tale sound of hangers sliding. I took stock of my other senses which all seemed to be intact. I took a deep breath. Fresh linen scent. My feet sunk a little into the floor. Carpet. I took a couple steps in each direction, arms outstretched. A wall here. There’s the corner. That’s the space with the clothes. Painted wood? Sliding my hands down and to the sides, I felt it then. The hard coolness of a doorknob. Freedom! Freedom from what, I wasn’t sure exactly. Shrugging to myself, I turned the knob. I couldn’t stay in a closet for the rest of eternity, could I? I don’t know what I thought I was opening the door to, but this wasn’t it. My eyes darted around the room, taking it in. Pink walls on all sides. A small canopy bed against one wall, draped in lacy white. Stuffed animals were piled across the comforter, on the verge of toppling to the floor. White furniture dotted the room, cheap trinkets and baubles stacked on their flat surfaces. At last, I focused on the center of the room. A little girl sat poised over a small table, her wide eyes staring back at me. She held a small teacup in her hand. “Finally! You’re here!” she exclaimed, slamming the cup down to the table in her apparent excitement. I turned to look over my shoulder. Was she talking to me? I turned back around just in time to see her leaping from her chair, barreling towards me. Her hand grabbed one of my own. “Sit down here by me.” She led me over to the tiny chair adjacent to her own. She patted the empty seat before returning to her own. I squatted down, feeling like my body was folded up into a little ball. My knees were nearly at my ears, the chair was so small. The little girl was making herself busy, pouring another pretend up of tea and putting the finishing touches on a melamine place setting. She was dressed like any other little girl playing “tea party” I surmised. Purple dress with golden accents. A plastic tiara askew on her hair that probably needed a comb through it. She was cute though. And, she reminded me of my nieces. “Okay so here’s your tea.” She handed me the tiny cup. “Now, take your cup and hit mine. This is what my mommy does with her friends sometimes.” She held her cup up in the air. I realized she wanted to ‘cheers’ and tapped her cup with mine as daintily as I could manage. While I pretended to take a small sip, she turned her cup up and drank her “tea” in one gulp. “Mmm. Mr. Snuggles, you made good tea today.” It was at that moment I realized two larger stuffed animals were our other two table companions, the big pink elephant apparently the aforementioned Mr. Snuggles. She turned her attention back to me. “What’s your name?” “Sophie.” “I’m Gracie.” I stuck my right hand out. “Nice to meet you, Gracie.” Instead of shaking my hand, she slapped it in imitation of a high-five and promptly fell off her seat in a fit of giggles. I had just started laughing along with her when the door to her bedroom swung open. “Gracie? Who are you laughing at, sweetie?” A woman who looked to be about my age stood confusedly in the doorway. Gracie sat up and pointed a small, erratically painted fingernail in my direction. “My new friend. Sophie!” The woman who I presumed to be Gracie’s mother swept her eyes around the table, looking carefully for any sign of something out of place or sinister. Evidently, she didn’t find anything of consequence despite me sitting in a chair 10 feet from her. Gracie spoke up again. “She’s right here, mama!” She gestured again toward me. A look of realization passed across the mother’s features. “Ohhh. Yes, I see her now, Gracie. But, it’s time to come down for dinner, okay? Let’s go wash up.” Gracie scrambled off the floor, scurrying off in the direction of the door. Stopping abruptly, she looked back. “C’mon, Sophie! Mama made mac and cheese tonight!” She waved wildly, encouraging me to follow her. Her mom’s laughter carried down the hallway. “Gracie, you and that imagination.