I KNOW My Daughter

Just recently I read in the news of a horrific accident that occurred in Indianapolis. It killed 5 people and critically injured a young woman. There was a mix-up of identification and the girl that had originally survived the accident was in a coma for over a month. After reviving from the coma, the parents indicated that they thought it was not their daughter; the coroner had misidentified the bodies and their daughter had died. This was a totally different girl; the girls sharing a distinctive blonde color of their hair. Now, I don’t like to judge, but I would like to hope that even after a few hours in the hospital and my daughter was extensively injured- face swollen, broken bones, and swathed in bandages that I would recognize my own child. She was with me (us) everyday for 18 years; I carried her for 8 months; She has a VERY individualistic hair coloring; I would even recognize her SMELL. Not that she has an offensive smell, I believe it is just something subconcious mothers associate with their children. My daughter also has tattoos now that would be identifiable; She has a scar that I would recognize from when she fell off a friend’s playground equipment; She has a beautiful birthmark on the back of one leg. Did these people actually begin to know that this was not their daughter, but an underlying desire for their daughter to NOT be dead would make them deny that acknowledgment? My heart grieves for them. My spirit rejoices for the other family that had their daughter restored to them when they thought her dead. Very damp and dreary Memorial Day weekend; we took the dog to Bayview to walk around. Lots of improvements there as it has been bought by a conglomerate. Wow. Maybe an infusion of a massive amount of money will transform the small burg on the edge of the water. In the kitchen I prepared home made spice cake with cherries (the darling husband LOVES cherries); angel food cake, and weiner winks.