It was the eyes that caught you first. Those big brown eyes with so much understanding, mixed with love. A history of joy and hope, goodbyes and hellos, fears and comfort. She had shoulder length red hair, a mixture of her Grandmothers on my husband’s side, and on my Great Grandmothers. As well my own blonde hair when I was a child highlighted Cassia’s. Like warm cinnamon. Her mouth relaxed in an almost tangible smile, guarded but emerging with each new day. Cassia’s small rounded nose wrinkled at the way too healthy smell of broccoli, an opinion we shared strongly.
Her voice carried a soft but high tone, in the way that all children do. At times her high pitched cries would have you bolting to the rescue only to find a small ant that had struggled up her knee and was now peering dangerously at her. Other days, we’d smile with her funny way of singing her own songs of flowers and bumble bees. The times that would melt our hearts were the little soft coos of “Mama” or “Daddy”, wuv you.” These moments would touch us deeply.
On her tiny right baby finger was wrapped our very being, in that we could do her no harm and we would see to give her all she could possibly need in this world.
Here name was chosen Cassia Elsa Emily, after her Grandmothers. Cassia is a beautiful flower that in biblical times was used primarily as a spice in the anointing oil for anointing kings, and their garments. It smells like cinnamon and with red hair the name fit perfectly for Cassia.
Cassia is my child, our little girl, conceived only in our imagination, affectionately loved in our dreams, teasingly named “Cassia Cookies”, by my husband. She has been imagined often and spoke about continually in those first few early years of dreaming about conception. She was our imaginary creation in our hoping hearts. She has been lost forever. In our own mind and spirit she is real, but we never got to meet her.