I don�t know if I�ve always had my powers. I do remember I was very young when I first noticed them. It started so small, with things like the wilted roses in the garden. I had no idea what I was doing. How could I have? I only knew that I wanted to help them. I suppose if I had gone through life like that, people might have just assumed I had a very green thumb. I was never aware of what I was doing for a long time, not really. I took it for granted. That is, until they took Gavin away.
He lived right next door to me, and he used to play with me back then. We were only a year apart and we got on very well. I doubt we were ever apart for very long back then. From what little I remember, we were always together. I still marvel at the way things work, meeting him again after all these years, he a teacher at Wellington and I a student. I was heartbroken when they took him away. It was my mother who explained it to me.
I�m not sure if she meant to scare me, but she certainly did. Looking back, I think there was an intensity in her that I never noticed as a child, and the notion that these terrible men could swoop down and carry me away from my family on a whim to teach me magic, that was just terrifying. Maybe she did mean to scare me. She would have had to give up everything for her life with my father and I. I doubt the woman strong enough to make that choice would want her daughter growing up believing that she must drift where ever the tide of unscrupulous bureaucrats carries her.
In any case, if she meant to scare me, she did a first rate job of it. When I finally did realize my powers, I stayed awake the whole night. It was the first time I remember healing something more complex that a plant. I had run across an injured owl one rainy day. It had broken its wing and could only struggle fruitlessly and hiss at me. For the longest time I stood over it with an umbrella, protecting it from the cold drops all I could. But soon night started to fall and the temperature dropped. Surely I could just pick it up and carry it home, I thought. So I tried. Oh, make no mistake, I received some nasty cuts that day, and I returned home in tears, but I also fixed that owl�s wing, almost without even realizing it.
I was so very shocked I dropped it and fell back onto the ground when the bone snapped back into place. The owl gave one indignant screech and it was off, and I burst into tears. I must have been a sad sight when I finally made it home, my face stained with tears, myself soaked from the rain and splattered with mud, blood, and no doubt some gray feathers thrown into the mix. My father laughed it off and kissed my dirty forehead, sweeping me up onto the kitchen counter where my mother tenderly washed and bandaged my various wounds as I blubbered like the child I was. I told her all about the owl. When she asked what had happened to it, I told her it had flown away, and she remained silent for a while. Finally, she warned me of the dangers of dealing with wild animals, especially injured animals. It was a risk I wasn�t to take again.
I took her advice to heart, but that night I was overcome with curiosity. I crept out of my room and down the hall to a violet setting by a window. The question of what had happened to the owl�s wing was haunting me and I had to have an answer. I had no animals to test my thoughts on, but I had this plant.
I reached out a trembling finger to touch one of the fuzzy leaves and hoped with all my heart that it wouldn�t grow. The leaf slowly started to darken and shrivel and I quickly drew my hand away, knowing that something was very wrong. I certainly hadn�t meant to do that. When I reached out a second time, the leaf perked back up and a small blossom started to grow, confirming all of my fears.
I jerked my hand away and ran back to my room, dodging under the covers and curling into a quivering little ball. For the rest of the night I lay awake, imagining the shadows of tall men in dark suits sliding out of doors and windows and from under the bed to grab me and carry me away. The severity of my mother�s warning suddenly had a whole new meaning: I had magic, and if I used it again, strangers would come and steal me away from my parents.