“She’s requesting your magic song that keeps the spiders away.” I walk into the living room where Ella is leafing through an old, dusty paperback from my bookshelf. I can’t help but notice how different she looks.

Although she’s only in her early twenties, she’s always looked much older. Not because of wrinkles or gray hairs, but in how she carries herself. In the burdened slope of her shoulders, in the sorrowful tone of her voice. I used to think she was just an old soul from the distant look in her eyes, but now I know it was the glazed over stare of a person who’s experienced too much of life’s chaos and sadness at too young an age. I don’t know why I never recognized the pain, the hopelessness, the fear. It’s exactly how I felt before Chloe came into my life.

Now Ella radiates a peaceful happiness that makes her sun-kissed skin shimmer. The horrors she’s experienced have vanished from her eyes, replaced with a hopeful sparkle that dances like flecks of gold over the beautiful brown. I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s simply stunning.

I was wrong. It’s not that Ella looks any younger. It’s more like she’s been walking around with the flame of passion extinguished from her soul. Like dreams were a distant memory and the harsh reality of her life had ground her down to dust. Now, I finally understand that myth of the phoenix rising from the ashes. A little over a year ago, I thought that was a silly story we tell ourselves, but as I gaze at her glowing face, I can see the truth.

“I’d love to sing it to her, if you don’t mind?” She tilts her head and her long hair flows down over her arm.

“Why would I mind?” I frown, confused.

“Well, I don’t want to intrude on the special bedtime routine you guys have, that’s all. I heard you reading Chloe her bedtime story. It was cute,” she explains.

“I think there’s nothing better to follow a bedtime story than a lullaby. Go ahead, she’s waiting for you.” I nod toward the stairs.

Ella smiles and heads up to Chloe’s room. Her new dress flares out around her legs as her bare feet cheerfully hop up the stairs. I tilt my head and listen for a moment as her sweet song fills the house. Without meaning to, I find myself tip-toeing back up the stairs, drawn to the music like a sailor to a siren song.

As my foot hits the top stair, Ella’s simple tune comes to an end. “Good night, Chloe,” she whispers.

“No, Ella, wait.” Chloe stops her.

“What is it?” Ella sounds concerned.

I hope Chloe isn’t just turning this into a game, trying to stretch out her bedtime with a bunch of distracting questions.

“Um, uh, well…”

I shake my head and start to head down the hall to tell my daughter that bedtime means sleep.

“Ella, sometimes I miss my mommy.” Her voice is thin, but her confession pierces my heart, stopping me abruptly in my tracks.

“Oh, honey, that’s completely normal,” I hear Ella take a couple steps closer to Chloe. “I lost my mommy too when I was younger and I still miss her,” she answers.

“You lost her? Where?” Chloe asks.

“No, I mean, I didn’t lose her. She…” Ella’s voice trails off into silence.

“Did she die?” The bluntness of the question makes me wince. Children aren’t really known for their tact, I guess.

“Yes, she did.”

“My mommy died too,” Chloe explains plainly.

It’s not something we talk about a whole lot. When I first brought my daughter into my home, I took her to a professional to talk about her mom. The therapist told me to keep the dialogue open about her death, but not to dwell on it. After the first four months, Chloe stopped asking when Janet was going to come get her. Lately, I’ve been wondering if she still remembers her at all.

“I know, and I understand how much you must miss her.” Ella’s voice is rich with compassion.

“Uh-huh, I do. I think she used to sing me a bedtime song too, but not the same one you sing. I like them both.”

I didn’t realize Janet had a special lullaby for Chloe. My gut twists with guilt for not knowing something that probably meant a lot to my little girl.

“I’m glad you like it,” Ella answers.

“Yep. Plus, your song keeps spiders away, so I really like that.” She sounds so cheerful. You’d never guess that she was talking about losing her mom. “Ella?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Are you my new mom?”

My heart leaps into my throat as the bluntness of her question sucks the air from my lungs. How is it that kids can just cut so straight to the point? They never get lost in the swirling ‘maybes’ or ‘what-ifs’. Their world is so remarkably black and white.

“’Cause I’d like if you were my new mommy.” She gets excited.

“Well, thank you,” Ella finally answers. “I would love that too, Chloe. But I’ll never replace your mother, okay? Where I’m from, women in the family are so important,” she explains. “Mothers are super special, but you can also have a really close bond with your grandmother,” she tells Chloe.

“Like my nana!”

“That’s right. Also we really love our tias, I mean, our aunts. I would be more like a special auntie, okay?”

“Okay.” Chloe’s word is muffled by a big yawn.

“I hope you have sweet dreams. Sleep well.” Ella tiptoes out of Chloe’s room and into the hallway.

“You did a great job,” I whisper, leading her back downstairs.

“Thank you.” She follows me down and my thoughts are a crazy mess.

How is it that kids can see the world so plainly, but as we age, we overcomplicate every single thing? Giving layers of complexity to issues that aren’t all that hard to understand. My thoughts go back to my mother’s words, back to when she said the jarring statement, like a simple fact, that I love Ella.

Why did I even question it? As my heart swells and warmth fills my veins, I know she wasn’t wrong. I am in love with Ella.

I love her.

Now I just need to stop overanalyzing and accept that simple, beautiful truth.