"So let me get this straight," Alex began as she towered above me making sure I wasn't crushed by my overzealous bench press attempt. "The old lady had your eyes, implied that your dad has them too, and said that's why you see ghosts?"

"Pretty much." I breathed exhausted by what I knew would be my only successful attempt. "Was that 150 yet?"

She laughed a little as she let down her flowing raven hair to readjust her ponytail. "Sorry Boo that was only 125, but you're getting there."

Alex was one of the few people I considered close enough to speak to about my gift. Luckily for me, she thought it was cool. It made calling me Boo has a double meaning, and she liked things like that.

After catching my breath I sat up and took a moment to admire the loving Amazon now sitting on the bench across from mine.

"So should I go?" I asked sheepishly as I wiped the sweat from my face with a soft teal towel.

"You seem like she left you with more questions than answers. I will drive you there and check out the local thrift shops. That, or I could sit a few tables away if you'd feel safer."

"Either way is fine with me. You could eat and then check out shops if we are still talking and you get bored. I'm going to put my phone on the charger while I shower to make sure it's fully charged."

"Sounds good to me. We should go in separately so that he doesn't get overwhelmed."

"I agree, and no matter what, tomorrow is just for us. You finally get to take me to the bar."

Alex was three years older than me and had been planning for months on how we would celebrate and what drinks I should try.

"Sounds like a deal" She shouted from the other side of the locker room. "Let's hurry and get you home so you can rest mentally and physically before we go."

We took our showers, packed our gym bags, and drove home listening to 80s rock music.

I spent the next thirty minutes staring at an array of flannels and t-shirts. I only had one dress and I wanted to avoid false impressions as much as possible. I eventually chose a purple and white flannel over a black tank paired with my favorite pair of ripped jeans.

I walked out of my bedroom to see Alex sitting at the table with two omelets and two glasses of orange juice. "You need to buy your vegetables the day you plan to use them. You had mushrooms, an onion, and a bell pepper that needed to be used soon, and you won't be home tomorrow."

"I'm just happy you made us breakfast. I figured you would want to go home and get ready."

"I figured you would need me after you told me about everything last night. I brought a nice outfit and a little makeup."

"You don't need it."

"You don't either, but we both know that we are going to have on something. At least mine is just a foundation. Yours is black eyeliner."

"I love you!" It always made me laugh when we bantered like this.

"I love you too! Now eat! You hit a new PR, and you need the nutrients."

I was healthy by default dating her. If things went well today I would make sure to mention that to my father when introducing her. I don't know why it mattered, but I wanted him to like her.

I felt so glad she was driving as we got closer to Guthrie. I was feeling more than I could process as I stared out the window at the rolling fields we passed by.

"I'm not going to ask if you're okay because I know that's a stupid question right now, but do you want to talk about what you are feeling?"

"I'm feeling glad that I'm not driving." I tried to force a laugh.

"Listen Boo, not knowing him has been part of your identity for twenty-one years. No matter what happens today, it's going to feel like it changes you. You're still you though. Still beautiful inside and out. Still able to help souls that others can't reach. Most importantly, you're still my favorite person."

"I love you. You know that?"

I realized her deep brown eyes had been looking into the depths of my soul. I may have been the writer, but she always knew the words I needed to hear.

"I love you too. Do you want me to go in first?"

"Let me go in first so you can sit in view just in case I need you."

"Roger that."

She found a place to park her little red Chevy truck, and I stepped out into the heat. I stood leaning against the passenger door taking deep breaths as I worked to convince my feet to move.

I didn't have to scan the room long before I saw them.

"Do you need help finding a place to sit?" asked a thin middle-aged woman.

"No, I'm- I'm meeting someone. I think that's him over there."

"Dating an older man to make the parents mad? I tried that once. It wasn't all"

I had to cut her off. I was hoping he couldn't hear the conversation. "Woah, it's not like that. I have a girlfriend. He's a relative."

I ducked past her, straightened my stance, and walked toward the spirit I recognized as my grandmother. The man she sat next to was thin. He had shaggy gray hair and a short beard. I noticed him look over at her just before making eye contact with me as he rose from the restaurant bench.

That confirmed it. He can see ghosts too. I was frozen in a mix of emotions as Alex glid past me led by the awkward receptionist.

Good. I thought as she was seated two tables behind him.

"Are you Kelsey?" The man asked sheepishly. I could see both hope and fear in his dual-toned eyes. Eyes frighteningly similar to my own.

"Yeah, that- that would be me," I replied stoically. I was determined to conceal my emotions until later in the conversation at least.

We stood awkwardly at the side of the table. I wasn't sure if he was waiting for a hug or simply waiting for me to sit.

"You two sit down, and I will leave you to talk." The frail woman instructed.

This seemed to free us both from an uncomfortable trance.

"You should start. Your questions are far more important than mine I'm sure." He nodded to me holding out an open palm.

About that time, our waitress came to take our drink order. He simply asked for water while I requested a Dr. Pepper and saw Alex smile towards me. I knew she was listening, and she knew exactly what I would get to drink.

"Okay," I began as the waitress went to retrieve our drinks, "there's not an easy way to do this. It's going to be uncomfortable no matter what. With that being said, let's try a little icebreaker called Two Truths and a Lie." This was going to feel like a first date. Two people trying desperately to understand each other and discern whether or not a relationship is possible.

"I'm familiar. Sounds like a good way to get a conversation started." His voice was calm and coarse.

"Right, I will start while you think of yours." I decided that this icebreaker could be a good way to broach the whole sexuality issue. " I have a girlfriend, I was raised by a single mom, and knowing that you try to celebrate my birthday but never tried to reach out makes me more angry with you than I usually am."

"Well, not one to pull punches. I see you at least have something in common with your old man." He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "Well, I know the last one is true, and I hope your anger will at least cool slightly today. Your mother was a rather flirtatious woman when I knew her. I'd be surprised to learn she has spent all of these years alone. Does your girlfriend treat you well?"

"She does. You found the lie. Congratulations."

"I suppose it's my turn then. Well, every day without you was a day without light, I come from a long line of gifted seers who can see and speak with the dead, and I was a horrible drunk when your mother and I were together."

"I know the second one is true. Your mom implied it the other day. Unfortunately for you, I also know that the last one is true. Mom told me. She said she would come home to find you obsessing over ancient mythology. She said she could tell you were drunk because you'd be talking to yourself about some imaginary battle. Nice try though."

My tone must have gotten a bit aggressive because I noticed Alex looking over. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to let her know everything was okay.

"Ouch, I figured she would lie, but not like that. My grandfather was an alcoholic. Couldn't handle the weight of the family he married into. I hate alcohol because of it. I figured she would have used the old demon line."

"Oh, she does. We don't talk, because she says I talk to demons just like my drunk evil father."

He cracked a slight smile when I said this. "That sounds about right. I can explain what happened, but I'm not sure we should get into that quite yet. "

About that time, our waitress came to take our order.

"Get whatever you want. I can finally buy my kid a meal. I want you to enjoy it." He insisted. "As for me, I will get the ribeye medium with mashed potatoes and fried okra."

"I will get a southwest chicken salad with extra ranch please." I turned my gaze back to my father. "Okay, Eddie right? So, what happened? Why weren't you there?" I was tired of waiting. It was time to have an answer to a lifetime of questions.

"Eddie or EJ is fine. Don't worry, I don't expect you to call me dad any time soon. I hope we get there someday though.

I had hoped your mother and I would settle down together. After I found out you were on the way, I knew I had to tell her about the family gift. Especially since I was nearly certain you would have it too. Her response was less than favorable.

I have spent my life vigorously studying various realms beyond our own to better understand our gift. There is more to it that you do not yet know, but that conversation will be better for a different time.

I tried to remain in your mother's life, but about a month before your birth, she moved back in with her mother and swore to get a restraining order if I ever tried to reach out. I was devastated, but my mother told me that we would be reunited when the time was right. Thankfully, it seems that time has come."

It felt like he was still hiding something. What was it about being a seer that he needed a deeper understanding of and what did ancient mythology have to do with it? He completely brushed over the battle part.

"Okay, but what about the battle thing? Do you have PTSD or something?"

"That's a story for another time kiddo. I think that's our food coming this way."

"Right. So, I guess I should let you ask something while we eat."

"Well, I think I might like to know more about this girlfriend you mentioned. I know if you had a boyfriend I would judge him harshly for allowing you to come meet a strange man on your own, but maybe lesbians are different."

"Firstly," I began as a flash of panic filled me. Alex had heard him, and by the way, she was placing her utensils in her napkin, it seemed she was about to become part of the conversation. "I'm bisexual, not lesbian. Secondly, she-"

"She didn't come alone." Alex cleared her throat as she loomed over my seated father. "Want me to join you Boo, or do you want more time. Your grandma is sitting by him though."

I laughed as my father stared at her respectfully. "She's not here babe. She left after we sat down. I'm okay with you joining us as long as he doesn't mind." I gestured towards my father.

"Fine by me. Would you like help getting your things?"

Asking was no use. Alex grabbed everything from her table and came to sit beside me. "He needs to hear how you feel love. It might be painful for both of you, but you will feel better after."

"As much as I hate it, she's right. You did well for yourself finding her. I won't ask you to take it easy on me, but I will ask you not to judge me too harshly if I get emotional." I could see that he was bracing himself for a verbal assault.

"You weren't there. Everything I did reminded her of you, and you weren't there to protect me. I spent so many nights crying myself to sleep wishing you would come save me." I couldn't hold back the tears any longer. Alex placed her hand gently on my thigh as I sobbed. "I wasn't good enough for her, and I felt like I wasn't good enough for you either."

"I'm sorry. I know I can't take away any of that pain, but I am here now. I won't fail you again."

We continued to eat in virtual silence. Alex attempted small talk once or twice, but I was too emotional to participate. Their argument over the bill brought my focus back to the table.

"You can pay for her, but you weren't expecting me to be here, so you're not paying mine." She commanded.

"You take care of my daughter. The least I can do is take care of your meal."

"Let him," I mumbled, "but in return, he has to exchange numbers with me. I'm not going to let you disappear for another twenty-one years. You found me now you're stuck."

"Deal. Can I hug you before we leave? If you're not ready for that I understand." He answered as we stood to pay and leave.

Nearly every part of me was against the idea of a hug, but somewhere deep inside was a little girl who finally got a chance to hug her daddy. Her desire prevailed.

"You were supposed to save me," I whispered tearfully as I became overwhelmed by the feeling of his arms around me.

"Better late than never." He whispered in return. "I love you. Please don't cry."

I swallowed hard, wiped the tears from my face, and looked into his eyes. "How long are you in town? My birthday is tomorrow, but I would like to see you again before you leave."

"Happy birthday. I will be leaving on the fifth, so if you'd like to see fireworks together on Tuesday it would be my honor."

"We will be there. I will text you to plan more."

He gave Alex a concerned glance as we got into her truck.

"Don't worry, I'm going to stay with her tonight in case she needs me."

"Thank you."

I am a Writer.

I am a Storyteller.

I am thousands of pens

drained and tossed to the side.

I write with passion.

I write with pain.

I write with love.

I write with range.

How can a program

Unable to love

Write without the emotions

listed above?

They say AI will write us stories.

These bots will script out tomes

So much faster than the author

But I am one of those.

Chapter 1

I spoke with my first ghost when I was eight-years-old. It was a warm spring morning in Northern Oklahoma. I was playing outside with my young boxer puppy when she began to bark at the neighboring yard. I looked up to see what she was barking at and my life changed forever.

I saw a man standing near the fence but something was different about him. He looked like a hologram. It reminded me of when Princess Leia sent the message through R2-D2 in Star Wars. I didn't understand how it was happening, but I knew I was talking to a ghost.

"Kelsey, can you see me?" He asked astoundedly.

"Mr. JR? I-is that you? Are you really there?" I questioned as I rubbed my eyes. "You passed away. How are you here?"

"Please don't be scared. I know my grumpy disposition in life made you feel like I didn't like children, but in reality I was upset with myself because seeing you kids play reminded me of how much I missed when my own children were small. I'm sorry it made you uncomfortable." His voice was soft and sincere; a noticeable difference from the gruff words he uttered in life. "Would you be willing to help a tired old soul?"

"Don't be sad. My dad told me that sometimes old men are just grumpy because they can't really do fun stuff anymore." I said reassuringly. "What can I do to help you? I'm only 8."

"Can you get my dear Betty baking again? My heart is so heavy knowing that in losing me she also lost her first love. Her life's passion." He pleaded.

Mrs. Betty was his loving wife of many years. She was a soft and caring elderly woman. She would care for my siblings and I when our parents were at work, and she always had fresh and tasty sweets. She was an excellent baker, but hadn't felt up to baking since her husband passed shortly before Thanksgiving.

"I can try. Dad and I got some brownie mix at the store earlier. He said he was going to teach me how to make them, but maybe he would let me see if Mrs. Betty will teach me instead. Her brownies are the best, and maybe baking will be easier if she is thinking more about helping me." I felt wise beyond my years for coming up with that idea.

"You've always been a smart young lady. I think that just might work."

I immediately went inside to find my dad sitting on the couch reading his book.

"Hey dad, I know you wanted to teach me how to make the brownies tonight, but do you think I could go ask Mrs. Betty to teach me instead? She makes the best brownies, and baking used to make her happy before her husband died." I rocked back and forth gently, my hands behind my back with fingers crossed.

"That sounds like a nice idea dear. Let me give you the egg and oil too just in case." Dad sounded rather proud of my idea, and headed straight for the kitchen to get the things I need. "Let her know she's welcome to come over for lasagna tonight" he said as he sent me out the door.

"Okay" I shouted back as I headed down the sidewalk. To the steps of the small blue house.

I was a little nervous knocking on her door that morning. She had become like an extra grandmother to me and I didn't want to make her sad, but I held my head high, and asked her late husband to help me say the right things.

"Hi Mrs. Betty." I smiled as the lanky gray haired woman opened the door.

"Well good morning dear. What do you have there?" She cooed back in her typical soft and welcoming tone.

"I have some brownies. I was wondering if you could help me learn to make them." I answered. "I know baking makes you think of your husband, but maybe baking with someone else would make it easier. I feel like he would be sad if he knew that you had a hard time enjoying your favorite thing just because he isn't here anymore."

I saw tears begin to fill her eyes as she invited me into her small home. "I dare to say you may be on to something. JR always said that the only thing better than my sweet treats was the smile I had while making them. I know he always seemed grumpy to you, but he truly was an amazing man. My daughter told me just yesterday that he would want me to continue living and finding joy in the things that remind me of him." I could hear both pain and an oncoming peace in her voice as I followed her into the kitchen.

She turned on a small radio, and began playing one of her beautiful jazz CDs as she retrieved a pan, mixing bowl, and measuring cup from her cabinets. She also took out a bag of chopped walnuts to add to the mix.

She explained each step to me as we prepared those brownies, and by the time we put them in the oven I noticed a smile returning to her thin fragile face.

While waiting for them to bake, I made sure to help her clean up the mixing bowl and utensils. That was the best part of baking after all.

"You can have the bowl dear, but I get the beaters." She chuckled.

"Deal!" I agreed as I sat to make sure no mix went to waste.

"Thank you." I heard JR whisper.

The light in the room seemed brighter for just a moment, and then he disappeared. It took me a few years to realize that I had witnessed him crossing over to the next life.

As we placed the finished brownies on a large blue plate Mrs. Betty gave me a look I had not seen before. It was like she was looking into my heart. Like we were connecting on a level I didn't know was possible. There were tears in her eyes but no sadness in her expression.

"Thank you sweet girl." She said with a smile. "This is the first time I've been able to bake without bursting into tears since he passed. Somehow I get a feeling that he is truly at rest now. Do you think your parents would mind if we enjoyed a brownie together before you take the rest home?"

My face lit up with the biggest smile possible. "I think it will he okay as long as I still eat my lasagna. Dad said you could come over for dinner too if you'd like."

"I would love that." She smiled.

We took the plate of brownies and walked back across the yard to enjoy lasagna, laughter, and the most delicious walnut brownies I've ever had.

From that day on, I was an aid to those who found difficulty crossing over. I did my best to pass messages without revealing my gift, but it wasn't always an option. For some people it was too much of a shock. Others, my own mother included, refused to believe in ghosts and accused me of speaking with demons. For most, however, it was a welcome blessing. Occasionally I was even asked to sit and translate a conversation between the living and the deceased.

Not all of the messages were happy or filled with love though. I once had to tell a woman that her husband knew she had been having an affair with his brother for quite some time before he fell ill. That was one of the few times I refused to be a spirit translator. I simply wrote her a letter saying I was an acquaintance of her deceased husband, and that he had informed me of the affair prior to his passing. I told her how awful it was of her to have an affair in the first place. The fact that it was his brother made it twice as disgraceful. Thankfully she never replied, and he was still able to pass to the next life.

I did get personal messages from time to time, but they were different from the others. When my great-grandmother passed she came to me in a dream and told me how much she loves me. A few other families came to me in this way as well. These dream communications were the only personal messages I had ever received.

That changed about a week before my twenty-first birthday. I was in the kitchen of my apartment making a small batch of spaghetti and listening to a playlist of sea shanties when a stocky elderly woman made herself known to me.

She had long gray hair, and frail looking features. I could tell that she had been sick for some time prior to leaving this life behind.

"Are you Kelsey Shaw?" she inquired hopefully.

"I sure am," I replied. "Do you have someone you need me to get a message to?" I was expecting her to ask me to tell someone how much she loved them, or to remind them that she no longer feels the pain of whatever illness she had. Those were the usual requests from spirits like her.

I never could have expected the conversation that followed.

"In a way." She answered crypticly. "I know of someone you likely want to speak to."

"I don't understand. Why would I want to speak to someone from your life? I've never seen you before."

"I know you haven't, but you've thought about me. Mostly you think about my son, but I know you have also wondered what his family would be like."

Suddenly it clicked in my mind who she must be. The painful realization nearly brought me to my knees.

"Y-you can't mean. . ." I stammered. "Are you my my grandmother? How did you find me?"

"I am dear. Many things are made known once you make it to this side of existence. I know you have many questions, but they may be better left for your father, to answer."

I didn't know what to say. I had dreamt my whole life of meeting my father. I wanted to ask him why he left my mother and I before I was even born. I wanted to know why I wasn't good enough for him. I wanted to hit him for not being their to protect me. I wanted his side of the story. Tears filled my eyes, and I began to cry uncontrollably.

"I know this is a lot to take in, and you likely have more emotions regarding your father that even I can understand. Please know that he does love you. Each year on the first of July, he goes back to the place he and your mother went on their first date. They met in November, but he goes at the beginning of July, because he knows it is your birth month. He will be at Stables in Guthrie around noon in just a few days. It would be everything to this old soul if you would meet him there." I could feel her desperation nearly as strongly as I felt my own.

"How will I know it's him? How will he know its me?" I asked.

"I will be there to guide you to him. He will know you by your eyes. They are a bit of a familial feature. It is the symbol of sight." As she said this, I noticed her eyes. I stared in awe as I looked into eyes much like mine; including the gold ring which separated the pupils from the blue of her irises.

"I thought my central heterochromia was a birth defect." I protested in shock. "That's what my biology teacher told me when I was in school. She said it was fairly rare."

"All will be understood in time my dear. I must go now, but I hope to see you on July first." With that she was gone.

I no longer felt hungry. I stood barefoot unable to move for what felt like an eternity. Was I hallucinating? Perhaps I had smoked more than I had intended, and this was just a bad high. My hands were shaking.

Part of me wanted to call my mother to confirm the location of her first date with my father. The more rational part of me knew it would be useless. I had spent most of my life trying to get her to talk about him, and never got her to even tell me his name. All that I knew was that they had gotten into a horrible fight when she was about six months pregnant, and she decided it wasn't safe for us to stay.

I forced myself to eat. Firstly because I had only eaten a ham and cheese sandwich that day, and secondly because I did not want perfectly good food to go to waste. I tried to watch a movie while I ate hoping that sticking to my normal routine would help ease my mind, but I hardly noticed it playing behind my racing thoughts. Had she said that my unique eyes were a familial trait as well as being the symbol of sight? Could my father communicate between realms as well? Was that what caused the fight that severed his relationship with my mother?

The next few days were a blur. I lived my life like normal, but it was like I was on autopilot. I drifted through my routine without giving anything much thought. I mindlessly stocked shelves at work, and avoided conversation as much as I could. My nights were restless as different scenarios and possible conversations raced through my mind.

My biggest fear was that I wouldn't be the daughter he wanted. I mean, what if he was super religious or something? He may not be able to accept the fact that his daughter was a bisexual college drop-out with gauged ears, a half shaved head, a habit of wearing too much black, and a growing cigarette addiction.

On the other hand, there was the chance that he would expect a father daughter bond right away. What if he wanted me to call him dad? That was not going to happen. It was going to take time and he would just have to accept that.

All I could do was hope that he would be somewhere between these two extremes. Willing to build our relationship over time, and able to accept me for everything I was. If he could do that, I could find a way to let him into my life.

One of my strongest desires in life was finally being fulfilled and I somehow did not know if I was ready. I had an ominous feeling that knowing my father was going to change a core part of my identity, but I never would have imagined how extensive that change would be.

I spoke with my first ghost when I was eight-years-old. It was a warm spring morning in Northern Oklahoma. I was playing outside with my young boxer puppy when she began to bark at the neighboring yard. I looked up to see what she was barking at and my life changed forever.

I saw a man standing near the fence but something was different about him. He looked like a hologram. It reminded me of when Princess Leia sent the message through R2-D2 in Star Wars. I didn't understand how it was happening, but I knew I was talking to a ghost.

"Kelsey, can you see me?" He asked astoundedly.

"Mr. JR? I-is that you? Are you really there?" I questioned as I rubbed my eyes. "You passed away. How are you here?"

"Please don't be scared. I know my grumpy disposition in life made you feel like I didn't like children, but in reality I was upset with myself because seeing you kids play reminded me of how much I missed when my own children were small. I'm sorry it made you uncomfortable." His voice was soft and sincere; a noticeable difference from the gruff words he uttered in life. "Would you be willing to help a tired old soul?"

"Don't be sad. My dad told me that sometimes old men are just grumpy because they can't really do fun stuff anymore." I said reassuringly. "What can I do to help you? I'm only 8."

"Can you get my dear Betty baking again? My heart is so heavy knowing that in losing me she also lost her first love. Her life's passion." He pleaded.

Mrs. Betty was his loving wife of many years. She was a soft and caring elderly woman. She would care for my siblings and I when our parents were at work, and she always had fresh and tasty sweets. She was an excellent baker, but hadn't felt up to baking since her husband passed shortly before Thanksgiving.

"I can try. Dad and I got some brownie mix at the store earlier. He said he was going to teach me how to make them, but maybe he would let me see if Mrs. Betty will teach me instead. Her brownies are the best, and maybe baking will be easier if she is thinking more about helping me." I felt wise beyond my years for coming up with that idea.

"You've always been a smart young lady. I think that just might work."

I immediately went inside to find my dad sitting on the couch reading his book.

"Hey dad, I know you wanted to teach me how to make the brownies tonight, but do you think I could go ask Mrs. Betty to teach me instead? She makes the best brownies, and baking used to make her happy before her husband died." I rocked back and forth gently, my hands behind my back with fingers crossed.

"That sounds like a nice idea dear. Let me give you the egg and oil too just in case." Dad sounded rather proud of my idea, and headed straight for the kitchen to get the things I need. "Let her know she's welcome to come over for lasagna tonight" he said as he sent me out the door.

"Okay" I shouted back as I headed down the sidewalk. To the steps of the small blue house.

I was a little nervous knocking on her door that morning. She had become like an extra grandmother to me and I didn't want to make her sad, but I held my head high, and asked her late husband to help me say the right things.

"Hi Mrs. Betty." I smiled as the lanky gray haired woman opened the door.

"Well good morning dear. What do you have there?" She cooed back in her typical soft and welcoming tone.

"I have some brownies. I was wondering if you could help me learn to make them." I answered. "I know baking makes you think of your husband, but maybe baking with someone else would make it easier. I feel like he would be sad if he knew that you had a hard time enjoying your favorite thing just because he isn't here anymore."

I saw tears begin to fill her eyes as she invited me into her small home. "I dare to say you may be on to something. JR always said that the only thing better than my sweet treats was the smile I had while making them. I know he always seemed grumpy to you, but he truly was an amazing man. My daughter told me just yesterday that he would want me to continue living and finding joy in the things that remind me of him." I could hear both pain and an oncoming peace in her voice as I followed her into the kitchen.

She turned on a small radio, and began playing one of her beautiful jazz CDs as she retrieved a pan, mixing bowl, and measuring cup from her cabinets. She also took out a bag of chopped walnuts to add to the mix.

She explained each step to me as we prepared those brownies, and by the time we put them in the oven I noticed a smile returning to her thin fragile face.

While waiting for them to bake, I made sure to help her clean up the mixing bowl and utensils. That was the best part of baking after all.

"You can have the bowl dear, but I get the beaters." She chuckled.

"Deal!" I agreed as I sat to make sure no mix went to waste.

"Thank you." I heard JR whisper.

The light in the room seemed brighter for just a moment, and then he disappeared. It took me a few years to realize that I had witnessed him crossing over to the next life.

As we placed the finished brownies on a large blue plate Mrs. Betty gave me a look I had not seen before. It was like she was looking into my heart. Like we were connecting on a level I didn't know was possible. There were tears in her eyes but no sadness in her expression.

"Thank you sweet girl." She said with a smile. "This is the first time I've been able to bake without bursting into tears since he passed. Somehow I get a feeling that he is truly at rest now. Do you think your parents would mind if we enjoyed a brownie together before you take the rest home?"

My face lit up with the biggest smile possible. "I think it will he okay as long as I still eat my lasagna. Dad said you could come over for dinner too if you'd like."

"I would love that." She smiled.

We took the plate of brownies and walked back across the yard to enjoy lasagna, laughter, and the most delicious walnut brownies I've ever had.

From that day on, I was an aid to those who found difficulty crossing over. I did my best to pass messages without revealing my gift, but it wasn't always an option. For some people it was too much of a shock. Others, my own mother included, refused to believe in ghosts and accused me of speaking with demons. For most, however, it was a welcome blessing. Occasionally I was even asked to sit and translate a conversation between the living and the deceased.

Not all of the messages were happy or filled with love though. I once had to tell a woman that her husband knew she had been having an affair with his brother for quite some time before he fell ill. That was one of the few times I refused to be a spirit translator. I simply wrote her a letter saying I was an acquaintance of her deceased husband, and that he had informed me of the affair prior to his passing. I told her how awful it was of her to have an affair in the first place. The fact that it was his brother made it twice as disgraceful. Thankfully she never replied, and he was still able to pass to the next life.

I did get personal messages from time to time, but they were different from the others. When my great-grandmother passed she came to me in a dream and told me how much she loves me. A few other families came to me in this way as well. These dream communications were the only personal messages I had ever received.

That changed about a week before my twenty-first birthday. I was in the kitchen of my apartment making a small batch of spaghetti and listening to a playlist of sea shanties when a stocky elderly woman made herself known to me.

She had long gray hair, and frail looking features. I could tell that she had been sick for some time prior to leaving this life behind.

"Are you Kelsey Shaw?" she inquired hopefully.

"I sure am," I replied. "Do you have someone you need me to get a message to?" I was expecting her to ask me to tell someone how much she loved them, or to remind them that she no longer feels the pain of whatever illness she had. Those were the usual requests from spirits like her.

I never could have expected the conversation that followed.

"In a way." She answered crypticly. "I know of someone you likely want to speak to."

"I don't understand. Why would I want to speak to someone from your life? I've never seen you before."

"I know you haven't, but you've thought about me. Mostly you think about my son, but I know you have also wondered what his family would be like."

Suddenly it clicked in my mind who she must be. The painful realization nearly brought me to my knees.

"Y-you can't mean. . ." I stammered. "Are you my my grandmother? How did you find me?"

"I am dear. Many things are made known once you make it to this side of existence. I know you have many questions, but they may be better left for your father, to answer."

I didn't know what to say. I had dreamt my whole life of meeting my father. I wanted to ask him why he left my mother and I before I was even born. I wanted to know why I wasn't good enough for him. I wanted to hit him for not being their to protect me. I wanted his side of the story. Tears filled my eyes, and I began to cry uncontrollably.

"I know this is a lot to take in, and you likely have more emotions regarding your father that even I can understand. Please know that he does love you. Each year on the first of July, he goes back to the place he and your mother went on their first date. They met in November, but he goes at the beginning of July, because he knows it is your birth month. He will be at Stables in Guthrie around noon in just a few days. It would be everything to this old soul if you would meet him there." I could feel her desperation nearly as strongly as I felt my own.

"How will I know it's him? How will he know its me?" I asked.

"I will be there to guide you to him. He will know you by your eyes. They are a bit of a familial feature. It is the symbol of sight." As she said this, I noticed her eyes. I stared in awe as I looked into eyes much like mine; including the gold ring which separated the pupils from the blue of her irises.

"I thought my central heterochromia was a birth defect." I protested in shock. "That's what my biology teacher told me when I was in school. She said it was fairly rare."

"All will be understood in time my dear. I must go now, but I hope to see you on July first." With that she was gone.

I no longer felt hungry. I stood barefoot unable to move for what felt like an eternity. Was I hallucinating? Perhaps I had smoked more than I had intended, and this was just a bad high. My hands were shaking.

Part of me wanted to call my mother to confirm the location of her first date with my father. The more rational part of me knew it would be useless. I had spent most of my life trying to get her to talk about him, and never got her to even tell me his name. All that I knew was that they had gotten into a horrible fight when she was about six months pregnant, and she decided it wasn't safe for us to stay.

I forced myself to eat. Firstly because I had only eaten a ham and cheese sandwich that day, and secondly because I did not want perfectly good food to go to waste. I tried to watch a movie while I ate hoping that sticking to my normal routine would help ease my mind, but I hardly noticed it playing behind my racing thoughts. Had she said that my unique eyes were a familial trait as well as being the symbol of sight? Could my father communicate between realms as well? Was that what caused the fight that severed his relationship with my mother?

The next few days were a blur. I lived my life like normal, but it was like I was on autopilot. I drifted through my routine without giving anything much thought. I mindlessly stocked shelves at work, and avoided conversation as much as I could. My nights were restless as different scenarios and possible conversations raced through my mind.

My biggest fear was that I wouldn't be the daughter he wanted. I mean, what if he was super religious or something? He may not be able to accept the fact that his daughter was a bisexual college drop-out with gauged ears, a half shaved head, a habit of wearing too much black, and a growing cigarette addiction.

On the other hand, there was the chance that he would expect a father daughter bond right away. What if he wanted me to call him dad? That was not going to happen. It was going to take time and he would just have to accept that.

All I could do was hope that he would be somewhere between these two extremes. Willing to build our relationship over time, and able to accept me for everything I was. If he could do that, I could find a way to let him into my life.

One of my strongest desires in life was finally being fulfilled and I somehow did not know if I was ready. I had an ominous feeling that knowing my father was going to change a core part of my identity, but I never would have imagined how extensive that change would be.