When My Daughter Counted Someone We Couldn’t See
One evening, we asked our 2½-year-old daughter a simple question: “How many people live in our house?” We expected her to answer four — me, my husband, her, and her baby brother. Instead, without missing a beat, she said, “Five.”
At first, we laughed, assuming she meant the cat. But she shook her head seriously. “No. Mommy. Daddy. Me. Baby brother. And…”
Her little voice faded as she lifted her finger and pointed toward the hallway — the empty hallway. My husband and I locked eyes, unease flickering between us. “Who else, sweetheart?” I asked softly, trying to keep my tone steady.
“The nice lady,” she whispered. “She sings to me when I can’t fall asleep.”
The air grew heavy. Neither of us knew how to respond. For days afterward, her words echoed in my mind. Maybe it was just a toddler’s imagination — children that age often make up invisible friends. But then I remembered my grandmother, who had passed away long before my daughter was born. She used to sing the same lullaby that, one night, I heard my daughter humming quietly to herself.
Coincidence? Imagination? Or something more? I still don’t know. But as I tucked her into bed that night, I realized something: family isn’t always only the people you can see. Sometimes, love lingers. Sometimes, those we’ve lost find a way to stay.
And maybe my daughter was right after all. There really are five of us living in this house.