In 2006, I lost a very close friend to cancer. She was more than a friend; she was the only person in this world who knew all my secrets and loved me anyway. I loved her very much and miss her daily.
One Saturday afternoon not long after she died, my little boy and I were taking a ride and were coming up to where Cyndi worked. As we got closer, I started tearing up, just realizing how much I really missed her. Dalton was in his carseat playing with a stuffed kitten. As we got to the entrance to where Cyndi worked, he said "I think I'll call my kitten Cyndi, Mommy. I think Cyndi's a good name." With tears in my eyes and throat, I said "I think you're right, Little Man. Cyndi is a good name."
Dalton didn't know Cyndi, and I'd never spoken her name to him. After I had Dalton we moved and Cyndi and I lost touch, something I regret so much. It wasn't until I learned she had cancer that we were in contact again. You don't realize how much you love someone until you know you're going to lose them. There are still things today I wish I could talk to her about. Sometimes I do, but I know she's not here. It just makes me feel a little bit better. Anyway, Cyndi is not a name Dalton was familiar with. We had no friends, relatives, neighbors, preschool children with that name. All I can think is he must have picked it up from me. I don't know that he was reading my mind. I think perhaps he was reading my energy.