Exceptional A little girl lost Finding Annie by Mary Vigasin

My name is Ann, but I prefer to be called Annie. I am the fifth and youngest child, with three sisters and one brother. You could call me pretty, having brown hair and eyes like my sisters. I spend most of my days looking out the window at the people below. While I wave at them, no one waves back. However, one or two will look up at me and smile. I want to go outside and make friends. Daddy thought it best that I spend my time behind this window. He thought it would keep me safe. At night when there are so few people down below, my eyes get heavy, and I drift off and dream. I dream I am floating right into Mommy's or Daddy's arms. On other nights, I imagine my sisters are rocking me back and forth. I only wish someone would take me down from this shelf and remove the lid from the top of my jar. Recognized Author Notes I made this fiction because it is Annie who tells her story. After Ma died, her best friend Ann told me the baby was placed in my mother's arms and buried with her. At seven, I never questioned why I did not see the baby; I believed whatever I was told. A few years later, Dad, after a few drinks and feeling melancholy, told me the truth. He prayed and begged God that Ma would recover, and when he was told she had died, he broke down. The doctors came to him and asked for the stillborn baby to find out how the baby died. He said he was in a state of shock and gave them permission. This night a few years later, he regretted his decision. I dreamed of Little Annie floating in a specimen jar that night. While this happened decades ago, I now understand Ma's recovery was impossible, but Dad and, most likely, the doctors at the time did not quite understand that the severity of the massive stroke left her with minimal brain function.

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