The winter snow was prettier than she’d ever seen. Like powder. The sun was wrapped in a blanket of clouds, and the field where she stood was peaceful and quiet. Every branch was so covered in white that the horizon couldn’t be seen even though she knew it was there.
“Sis soh sheah.” Her dat’s voice was serene and collected.
“Ya,” Esther said, agreeing that the view was pretty. She turned to find the gentle greeting of her dat’s eyes. He smiled at her, and as they began walking together, Esther took his hand in hers.
“Let’s go sledding,” she said and heard the voice of a child, suddenly realizing it was her own. All the innocence of her five-year-old self braided together with her adult wisdom. The thought brought a giggle and a skip to her step.
“I brought it.”
Esther turned to see he held a string of twine with his other hand and the rails of the sled began making two long lines behind them. She hadn’t noticed it before.
“There’s a hill up here.” Detteh pointed.
The walk seemed long, but she didn’t tire. When they got to the hill, she sat on the sled and scooted up to the front. She patted the space behind her with a small mittened hand and invited him to come and sit down.
“Kumm, hoak annah?”
Her dat squatted down at her level. His nose was red with cold, and his eyes were bright and happy.
“It’s your turn to ride,” he said. “Are you ready?”
“No, I’m not. Why can’t you come too? I’m too scared to go by myself.”
“Look at the bottom of the hill.” He pointed.
Esther looked and was confused at what she saw. Was that the train station at the bottom of the hill? Joe and Daisy were there—waving at her. But why were they there?
“But I’m supposed to be here with you. You just got home.” She was an adult again and felt stripped away from the childlike innocence, like a bandage pulled off too quickly.
“You’re ready to go, Essie.” He smiled at her.
“Why do you want me to leave you? I’m supposed to take care of you.” She looked down toward the train station, and the snow made it difficult to see.
“It’s time for you to go,” Dat said. “All you need is just a little push.”
“But I’m afraid.” She grabbed his arm. “I’m too afraid.”
“Don’t be afraid, Essie.”
She turned once more to look at her dat and saw Orpha and her mem standing near him. They smiled and waved at her.
The push was gentle but deliberate, and as it built momentum, she gripped the twine in her hands. When the speed frightened her, she pulled back, but it didn’t slow her down. She turned around and her dat was still waving.
Esther startled awake, and the silence in the house was deafening. Since the day she’d heard her dat’s voice through the thick wooden door and the day he passed from this life to the next, her ears seemed to hear as never before. For weeks her hands were wrapped in bandages, and her throat raw. All she could do was listen. And for the first time in her life, she heard God speak. In those weeks she’d stared at the embroidered verse across from her bed. Wait in silence.
She’d grown comfortable in silence, but it was a different kind than had consumed Daisy in her deafness. The little girl’s silence meant she couldn’t hear. Esther’s meant that she could do nothing but hear. But now that she had her hands and her voice back she didn’t want to stop hearing everything around her.
Don’t be afraid, Essie. Chester’s words had been given to her in a dream, but in this moment she heard it in her heart, she knew it was from her other Father. The Father who had neither abandoned nor neglected her. She’d belonged to him all this time and only now could she see it.
It was time to write to Joe.