I don't remember much about before Mia was born.

Mom says I'm lucky to remember anything at all. Half the time, the stuff I remember she says happened differently than I remember it happening, so I never know what to believe all the way. But I remember this; When Mia was born, she was supposed to die.

I remember Mom and Dad going to the hospital. Mom got sick, but then she got better. Mia didn't. I remember Grandma coming to watch me, then talking on the phone, crying. I remember bright lights and beeping machines when Grandma took me there the fifth day.

I remember a tiny glass box with an even tinier baby inside covered with tubes and wires, and Mom and Dad telling me to be careful, and sticking my hand inside the box to touch this weird ugly alien they told me was my sister.

And while Mom and Dad were arguing and machines were beeping and people were crying, I said,

"She's going to be okay."

And I believed it. I meant it.

Mia does things she's not supposed to be able to-- things nobody is supposed to be able to. I sometimes wonder if I was able to do that too. I don't remember. But I think, at least just one time, I could change things the way she could, and I think I changed her.

I don't know if that change was so big, so important, that it used it all up forever and that's why I can't do it anymore, or if maybe I only had one change in me at all, but either way, I don't care.

Because the very next day Mia came home, and that's all that matters.