I took a photo of Danielle once looking very much like this. She sat back to back with my daughter on a round rock with a bower of mock orange arching above them.
They were two sprites caught by chance. I can still feel the warmth of the overcast day, humid from a light summer rain. I can smell the earthy scent of the garden. They were playing 'faeries,' completely lost in their world, voices soft, expressions serene as they gathered twigs and leaves and petals. They looked at the camera with magic still holding them spellbound. It was one of those moments when you only hear crickets. Time stands still and life is completely perfect.
I think Danielle was four in that photo and today she would be eighteen. She'd be thinking about flying from her own nest, not building them for mythical creatures.
We miss you, Danielle. I wish life could always be completely perfect.