When will she sing to me?
As the morning sun beat down upon the ground that summer morning, Sally looked out across the grassy yard, set her gaze upon the leafy and colorful bush in front of her and affectionately admired the fluttering wings of the myriad “fairies” that hovered in the air. “I can hear them speak to me.” Sally always had a way of speaking to those with whom she felt a close psychological connection. It was there since day one, a sort of innate quality that was provided to her through the grace of her creator and the wisdom and randomness of physiology. Today was no different than other days, in that there was always something – a bird, a song, a moment, a friend or a memory – that spoke to her in ways that no one else could possibly contemplate. Sally, though, had a gift. She was sweet, kindhearted, precocious, extroverted and curious about the natural world all around her. She was extremely childlike even beyond what a normal young child would routinely seem to be. “I’ve seen her before.”