My arms encircle you as you curl up. I feel larger than I am. Stronger. I hold you, stroking you hair and back through your sweatshirt. You are shiver...ng. You may be crying. There is wetness seeping though my shirt. I hold you and rock a little bit until the shaking stops. I will my warmth into you, breathing slowly, holding and stroking. In time – how much doesn’t really matter – you sigh. I feel an ember of warmth reflected back to me and see a hint of color where your arms and legs peek from. Molly's little girl spirit hadbeen imprisoned in a boy's body like Wendy's but unlike Wendy, thelittle girl within never grew up. Now nearly thirty years later, the"man" had transitioned into a woman, but her soul knew no peace, as thestubborn little five-year-old still cried for the body, the life and themommy she desperately needed.Molly cried out to Wendy in the words of stories and the woman wantednothing more than to hold and comfort the sad and frightened littlegirl. Over the next few. More

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