"Hi!" the boy had said to Cecelia, neck craning so he could take her all in. "Wow, you're really big! Impressive even for an imaginary friend, to be sure." He was about nine years old and had curly brown hair with brown eyes. He was pretty skinny and seemed to have rather large feet for a nine year old. I imagined that he would grow into them, though. I was betting he was going to be tall and lanky as an adult. Good for basketball, as you know. I wondered if he would play the sport. (Just because you're tall doesn't mean you play basketball, so don't assume.)

He'd come with his little sister to the swamp, presumably to help her choose an imaginary friend. She, unlike her brother, had blonde hair and blue eyes. She seemed young, but sometimes, children need friends early. She drug an old crib blanket around with her... you know the kind that's furry and soft? It was faded pink and it was obvious that it meant a lot to her. I wondered what kind of friend she would choose.

Cecelia shifted, shuffling from foot to foot, trying not to blush. It as pretty pointless; she blushed at the drop of a hat. She was always a little self-conscious and a whole lot shy. Sometimes, just noticing her embarrassed her.

Have you ever seen a blue-haired monster like Cecelia blush? All her hair stands on end and she turns a beautiful shade of lavender. It's the cutest thing ever.

"My name is Thomas. What's yours?" the boy asked, holding out his hand for a shake.

Cecelia, who knows her manners, reached down and carefully touched his hand. She couldn't really shake since she'd probably hurt him, but she has her way of greeting others. The boy seemed quite satisfied by the way he beamed at her.

"My name is Cecelia," she replied quietly. It was amazing how quiet she could be what with being so big and all.

"Cecelia. What a wonderful name!" Thomas said happily. She blushed again. "So," he said, gesturing around, "you live her with Mr. Granger in the swamp?"

Cecelia nodded with gusto, sending down a shower of soft tufts of ocean blue fur onto Thomas, me, the little girl, and the immediate area. Apparently, she hadn't brushed that day. Thomas picked up on that right away.

"Oh, hey! You're shedding," he said, digging out from underneath the fur as it slowly disappeared from sight. (I bet you didn't know that's what happened with hair and fur from imaginary friends, did you? That it just melted from view? Makes sense, though, doesn't it? Can't leave fur behind to get noticed!)

"So, when I had an imaginary friend, he was big like you," Thomas explained. "He lived in the backyard. When he'd get real shaggy and needed to be brushed, he let me ride the brush down his back like a sled. Said it felt real good."

Cecelia's eyes got wide. I could tell that she really liked that idea. "Cecelia, would you like Thomas to brush you?" I asked. "If that's okay with you, Thomas," I added quickly, looking at him.

"Oh, yeah! That would be fun! I haven't done that in years!" he exclaimed. He craned his neck again and asked her, "Would it be ok with you?" He was a very polite boy.

She nodded vigorously again, creating another flurry of fur gently floating to the ground and onto the roof of the house. And, of course, all over Thomas, the girl, and me.

"Cool! So, do you have a brush?"

"I do!" Cecelia smiled and shrugged out of her backpack. She carried lots of stuff in her ginormous backpack... including her brush. Thomas and I laughed at the amount of fur this caused to rain down on us. It was as light as feathers, so it tickled and made us giggle. Even the little girl smiled and tried to blow a tuft of fur without any luck; her aim was terrible

Cecelia handed the brush to Thomas. It was about the size of a cafeteria tray and made extra lightweight just for this purpose. Thomas took it from her with a smile and a thank you.

"Now, Cecelia, be gentle with him," I said.

She rolled her eyes. "As if I wouldn't," she said. She sat on the ground and then put out her hand for Thomas. He climbed aboard and she lifted him up to her shoulder. He hopped off like he'd done this just yesterday, got a running start, and flopped down on the brush as it glided down her fur.

Thomas knew exactly when to put on the breaks so he didn't crash and Cecelia purred.

"Oh, wow! You've got a great purr," Thomas said.

"It's okay I guess."

"You guess? It's awesome! Don't you think so?"

Cecelia shrugged. I could tell that she was struggling with what she was supposed to be feeling. She had told me that she felt guilty when she felt good about herself... as if doing so was wrong. I decided to give her an emotional nudge.

"Hey, Cecelia? What did Mr. Jerry say this week about Self Love?"

She smiled at the thought of Mr. Jerry. She liked him a lot. "He said that I should do what I need to do to be me."

"That's right. And, do you need to purr in order to be you?"

She nodded, fur floating down. "Yeah. It's, like, a part of who I am."

"Oh, I get it," Thomas said, looking back and forth between the two of us as we spoke. "You're working on self acceptance. That's a really brave thing to be doing."

Cecelia blushed. "Thanks. Mr. Jerry says that I have a lot of really good qualities." She put her hand down for Thomas again and he climbed on.

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Well, like my fur. It's really soft," she said. She blushed and Thomas patted her hand reassuringly.

"It is!" he agreed, hopping onto her shoulder. "What else?"

"I like to help people, especially kids."

"That's a really important thing to do," Thomas said as he hopped on the brush and went flying down her back.

She purred even louder this time.

"I tell you what," Thomas said, "For everything positive you tell me about yourself, I'll run the brush down your back twice."

"Deal!" she said immediately, nearly squealing in delight.

I chuckled and turned to Thomas' little sister who had been holding my hand and watching her big brother with Cecelia. I knew Cecelia was in good hands, so I wanted to focus on the young girl. "And, what's your name?" I asked.