Jago has taken to calling me Aunt Ta-ta. He gives me wet kisses and tight hugs and sits on my lap when I visit, patting me and smiling like he’s just so pleased that I am there to see him. He looks at his mother and then looks at me and with a smile, points and says, Aunt Ta-ta. And when I leave at the end of my visit, he’ll cry when I put him down and then ignores me in an attempt to get me to take him in my arms again. And when I hear him crying as the door shuts behind me, it breaks my heart in half.



Last year when I was New Orleans and had my palms and cards read, the fortune teller told me that I would have one son but that I would also become very close to another child who would mean just as much to me as my own child. She didn’t know if it was a stepson, or a grandson or a godchild, but she definitely saw the impact that he would have on my life. I’m convinced now that the child she was seeing was Jago. 



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