FYI: This is based on 80's era MJ. Back in his THRILLER Days....
and is written from a child's point of view.

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I don't have a lot of solid memories from before I was 7 or 8 years old, but there are some things you just don't forget. Some things you just can't. I remember being young, barely five and my mother being sick, so sick all the time. I didn't understand what cancer was or what it meant for my mother's future, but it didn't sound good. I remember sitting in the hospital with her, talking about what 5 year old girls talk about while she got her medicine (chemo). I remember how sad it made me feel when she wasn't her usual, happy, fun, bubbly self. When she was so weak from the medicine. All the days had become the same and at the same time, nothing was the same anymore. Something was wrong with my mother and it didn't seem to be getting better. Cancer, they called it. What was it? Was something eating her from the inside? It sure seemed like it to me. I remember days when my mother wouldn't eat and it seemed like nothing would ever make us smile again. Nothing. No one. Ever again. But I remember this as well, stronger than I remember almost anything else. Michael Jackson.

One day, a day like all the others, sad, unchanging, another day for medicine for my mother... and in walked Michael Jackson himself. He made my little five year old heart flip flop around just at the sight of him. Was it really him? It couldn't be, Michael was only ever inside our TV! I looked to my mother, she'd know. I could tell by the look on her face that it MUST be him, I couldn't remember the last time she'd smiled... but she was practically beaming as he walked over quietly to us, a warm smile on his face.

"Hi, I'm Michael" he told my mother and me as if we didn't already know. She seemed taken aback, or perhaps too weak to properly respond. So being the excited child that I was, I chimed in for her,
"Hi Michael!! This is my mommy and I'm Katie!"
He focused his attention on me, his eyes an intense chocolate, the corners of his lips turned up in amusement..
"Katie." He repeated, "I bet that's short for Katherine isn't it?" WOW he was magic AND smart, how did he know all that? I'd thought to myself. He chuckled a little and patted my head "that's my mother's name you know, she's Katie too."

I giggled a little, I liked that my name was like his mother's and was happy that he seemed to be pleased with me. I was beyond excited!! I grinned at him widely, and my brain began to rush to a thousand questions I wanted to ask him. But there was something in his eyes, something that brought me back to reality, a sadness in the deep pools of chocolate. My heart sank, I could hear the hospital sounds again, everything had seemed to disappear while Michael spoke to me. There was no sick mother, who I couldn't kiss or wish better. There were no doctors with their big words. No tears of sadness or confusion on my face. No un-healing heartache. There was just the simple and pure overwhelming joy of seeing him. Of seeing Michael Jackson, somehow glowing, standing there in a pair of jeans, a Micky Mouse t-shirt and church shoes like the ones he danced in.

But reality was back, and it was an ugly monster. I tore my eyes away from him and looked at my mother, my heart broke into a thousand pieces at my selfishness. How could I have let myself be so happy with my mother there so sick, so thin and with her beautiful long dark hair almost all gone. I put my hand on hers, the tiny pieces of my broken heart all aching for her. But then she smiled at me, her eyes as warm and loving as a gentle caress. I looked into them, into her, some of the sad, emptiness seemed to have magicked itself away. I returned the smile and rubbed my small pale thumb over the back of her hand where mine lay sweetly atop. Her skin was so rich looking, She'd told me I'd inherited my fair skin from my father's side of the family, he was fair and his mother too. But my mother was brown, like Michael, and my small hand looked like a dollop of whipped cream on hers.

Turning now to my mother, Michael spoke again, his voice like an unwritten melody.
"How are you feeling?" He drew his eyebrows together, wearing his concern on his face.
"Better," she said her voice and smile weak, her eyes genuine. "I guess this is as good as it gets."

I may have been small, but I knew exactly what she meant by that. We were both tired and broken, and no we weren't feeling well, cancer was eating her from the inside out and I felt as if I would die of a broken heart watching her helplessly, as she withered away. But yet, right here in the middle of our own personal storm was Michael. And even if it were for only a little while, things didn't seem AS horrible. This was as good as it was going to get, I knew it, she knew it and looking at Michael, I think he knew it too.

"May I sit?" he asked in his melodic voice.
"Yes, please do!" mother replied obviously ashamed even in her sickly state, for forgetting her manners.
Michael grabbed a chair and scooted it over closely to my mother's recliner where she sat with her medicine dripping into her. I felt surprisingly at ease with Michael there in the room with us, he hadn't said very much, but he was there. It was mostly just mom and I, we'd moved in with my Grandma but my mother was so sick she couldn't work anymore and Grandma had to take a job in order to keep us. Grandma didn't get to come with us when Mommy got her medicine. So Michael's being with us, seemed to lesson the burden immediately. He took my mother's hand and held it, she seemed to relax even more. He began to hum a song I didn't recognize, but it was sweet and melodic. I watched my mother, she seemed content, she closed her eyes and let head rest against the reclined chair in which she sat. Without taking my eyes from my mother, afraid to miss a moment of her, I slid my hip onto Michael's lap and leaning against Michael, I too let my head rest, my eyes still on my mother.

Lately I'd had trouble sleeping, I'd been dreaming of waking up alone and cold. No more Mommy. But Michael's melody soothed me, and while one of his hands held my mother's still, he used the other to gently stroke my head. It was as if he were soothing away all the nightmares that had begun to plague me, my eyes became heavy. I could feel his heart beating gently against my back as I leaned into him. I could feel his chest rise and fall, rise and fall, rise and fall, as it rocked me into a calm. I could smell him this close too, I was surprised, he didn't smell like most men, he had a sweet flowery scent, but there was something else too. Cotton Candy? Bubblegum? Yes that was it, Michael smelled like flowers, cotton candy and bubble gum. The scent was intoxicating to me then and I can still remember it clearly now, all these years later. I strained to watch my now sleeping mother, I fought the gravity in my eyelids as it urged them to shut. But then, Michael murmured something to me, something that let me rest...

"I'll still be here when you wake, Katie. I love you and I won't leave you." -- I was just able to reply before sleep over took me.. "I love you too Michael... " He brushed his lips against my brow and my eyes fell shut. I don't know how long we slept, but I knew I was safe.