Zodwa knows now that the two white owls were Ruth and Delilah, and that they took Mandla not to harm him but to try to save him after Leleti left him with them. She knows too that there is no such thing as curses; they’re just self-inflicted prisons that only have power over us as long as we believe in them. Our luck is what we make of it and all we can ever do is make the most of the time we have.

Zodwa can’t help but think how cruel the world can be that it could give a child two women who would do anything to mother him and then take both of them away, allowing neither one the opportunity to raise him. Yet before all the loss comes all the love, and if heartbreak is the cost for loving as much as we do, then it’s a price Zodwa’s willing to pay.

“Mama!”

Zodwa turns to find Mandla standing on the couch waving at her. His smile is so beautiful she wants to cry. Instead, she walks over to him and picks him up. “My son. My little man,” she says, kissing him all over.

He squeals and then kisses her back, blowing a raspberry against Zodwa’s cheek as Delilah taught him. And in those few seconds, it doesn’t matter that Zodwa is dying or that Mandla is sick. It doesn’t matter that their entire lives and all their struggles amount to less than the blink of an eye in the greater scheme of things.

What matters in that brief wondrous moment is that they are there at all and that their hearts beat in proximity to each other. Each day is a blessing; each breath of air, a gift. Zodwa doesn’t know how many of them she has left. All she knows is that she will fill them by trying to equip her son for a time when she’ll no longer be there.

She will love him so completely that love is all he remembers even after loss is all he knows. She can only hope that it will be enough.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

While it’s true that writing is a solitary endeavor, it takes a supremely kick-ass team to get a book published. All my time spent alone talking to (and arguing/laughing/crying with) my imaginary friends wouldn’t have been possible without a wonderfully supportive tribe.

My first thanks go to the brilliant Kerri Kolen, who saw enough potential in three sample chapters to allow me to write this novel. I’m incredibly grateful to her for not only giving my first book a home, but for allowing me to continue doing what I love best. She’s the best fairy godmother a writer could have.