Psychic Child

Psychic Child

Visions: Tales of a Psychic Child

Since a very early age, I was intuitive about people and places. This sort of gift had the adults around me telling my parents. “Wow, she is wise beyond her years!” to complaining about how rude or outspoken I was.

One of my earliest memories of showing my gifts was around nine-years-old:

Most of her clients were near our house in West Phoenix. I enjoyed riding with Mom to go deliver the Avon products when they arrived. I always hoped they’d have kids “my age” to play with because, well, my mother can talk a lot. I knew we’d be there for hours, and it was easier if I had other kids to play with!

One evening we arrived at a lovely middle class house (we were also middle class) near 75th Avenue and Indian School Road. It was a new housing project, at the time. The area, in those days was mostly fields, except for this newer strip of brand new homes.

As we drove up and parked in front the stucco home, I noted a child’s Halloween cut-outs in one of the windows; obviously, the child’s bedroom with lacy curtains and a light on. I told my mother, “Oh goody, they have a girl, too!”

Mom warned me, as it was evening, “Angela, she could be sleeping, and we’re only here for a minute.”

Of course, I knew that was wrong. Mom is never anywhere for a minute! Once she starts talking, all bets are off!

Suddenly, still in the car, I had this sinking feeling and told Mom, “Their little girl isn’t here, anymore.” Partly because it was already January or February, and the ornaments in the window were from Halloween.

This sinking feeling was familiar to me, as well. It meant, she wasn’t alive anymore. As I write this, I am not sure how I knew the feeling to mean death, yet, I recall knowing it did.

I was immediately depressed, the feeling was very depressing. As I look back, all these years later, it may be that I picked up the emotion, the grief of the parents.

When we entered the very clean house, the couple greeted us with smiles. I do recall, though, a sadness around the mother. I was immediately drawn to the kitchen, just off the living room and toward the back sliding glass door. When I walked to the edge of the kitchen, it was dark and I had the urge to go down the hall to the little girl’s bedroom.

Suddenly, I felt like the little girl was there and I could play with her. At first, I thought she was at the back sliding glass door; but, no, she was in her room, right?

I felt her living energy right there with me! Mom, also sensitive, said something to the couple, “My daughter, Angela, here noticed you have a daughter, too.”

The woman gave a sad smile. I stopped my mother, as I often did, and said, “But, she’s not here anymore, she’s in Heaven.”

The woman, teary-eyed, came over and hugged me and the man looked shocked. The woman asked me something. I think it was, “Do you see her?”

I told her I did and that she wanted to tell me about the pool, behind the sliding glass door. She didn’t like it …the pool.

The man asked, “Did you know that she drowned?”

The mother confirmed, “In the backyard pool, behind the sliding glass door.”

My mother assured them both we had no knowledge of their lost child.

Clint Irwin: Mad World: Fragments #128

Really great writing from my friend, Clint Irwin. Check out his book … !

Love, Light & Laughter, Angela Theresa

clintirwin:

Maybe it is the feeling of forced uniformity here in Florida, but when I miss New York, I keep thinking of when I lived in Queens. People will claim bragging rights on the Bronx or Brooklyn or Manhattan, but who brags about being from Queens? Well, I say this, I am told that Queens is the most…

Angela Theresa Collins

William Kozy

Bound Not Together by Alaina Hammond

Psychic Child

Psychic Child

Visions: Tales of a Psychic Child

Since a very early age, I was intuitive about people and places. This sort of gift had the adults around me telling my parents. “Wow, she is wise beyond her years!” to complaining about how rude or outspoken I was.

One of my earliest memories of showing my gifts was around nine-years-old:

Most of her clients were near our house in West Phoenix. I enjoyed riding with Mom to go deliver the Avon products when they arrived. I always hoped they’d have kids “my age” to play with because, well, my mother can talk a lot. I knew we’d be there for hours, and it was easier if I had other kids to play with!

One evening we arrived at a lovely middle class house (we were also middle class) near 75th Avenue and Indian School Road. It was a new housing project, at the time. The area, in those days was mostly fields, except for this newer strip of brand new homes.

As we drove up and parked in front the stucco home, I noted a child’s Halloween cut-outs in one of the windows; obviously, the child’s bedroom with lacy curtains and a light on. I told my mother, “Oh goody, they have a girl, too!”

Mom warned me, as it was evening, “Angela, she could be sleeping, and we’re only here for a minute.”

Of course, I knew that was wrong. Mom is never anywhere for a minute! Once she starts talking, all bets are off!

Suddenly, still in the car, I had this sinking feeling and told Mom, “Their little girl isn’t here, anymore.” Partly because it was already January or February, and the ornaments in the window were from Halloween.

This sinking feeling was familiar to me, as well. It meant, she wasn’t alive anymore. As I write this, I am not sure how I knew the feeling to mean death, yet, I recall knowing it did.

I was immediately depressed, the feeling was very depressing. As I look back, all these years later, it may be that I picked up the emotion, the grief of the parents.

When we entered the very clean house, the couple greeted us with smiles. I do recall, though, a sadness around the mother. I was immediately drawn to the kitchen, just off the living room and toward the back sliding glass door. When I walked to the edge of the kitchen, it was dark and I had the urge to go down the hall to the little girl’s bedroom.

Suddenly, I felt like the little girl was there and I could play with her. At first, I thought she was at the back sliding glass door; but, no, she was in her room, right?

I felt her living energy right there with me! Mom, also sensitive, said something to the couple, “My daughter, Angela, here noticed you have a daughter, too.”

The woman gave a sad smile. I stopped my mother, as I often did, and said, “But, she’s not here anymore, she’s in Heaven.”

The woman, teary-eyed, came over and hugged me and the man looked shocked. The woman asked me something. I think it was, “Do you see her?”

I told her I did and that she wanted to tell me about the pool, behind the sliding glass door. She didn’t like it …the pool.

The man asked, “Did you know that she drowned?”

The mother confirmed, “In the backyard pool, behind the sliding glass door.”

My mother assured them both we had no knowledge of their lost child.

Clint Irwin: Mad World: Fragments #128

Really great writing from my friend, Clint Irwin. Check out his book … !

Love, Light & Laughter, Angela Theresa

clintirwin:

Maybe it is the feeling of forced uniformity here in Florida, but when I miss New York, I keep thinking of when I lived in Queens. People will claim bragging rights on the Bronx or Brooklyn or Manhattan, but who brags about being from Queens? Well, I say this, I am told that Queens is the most…

Angela Theresa Collins

William Kozy

Bound Not Together by Alaina Hammond

Visions: Tales of a Psychic Child

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