She denied it, but I still believe she could fly. She had the kind of voice that could only have been fashioned by divinity, the kind of heart and kindness only heard of in stories of heaven, the very warmth of her embrace. I'm telling you, my mother had to be an angel.

I can still hear her singing, in every room of the house, gliding and twirling as she did.

"...and when the world comes to an end

I hope my voice still plays in your head

When you're alone, when you're afraid and lost in your way

I hope you know, ndinawe..."