I ducked into a café to grab an espresso. The nanny declined so she walked with Addison around the small plaza. The espresso was piping hot, so I set my grocery bags down and waited for the brew to cool.

Plaza Mayor is a small mall with an Auto Mercado for groceries and a cine in Rohromser near la Sabana park. A few shops huddle together between walkways. Often on weekends, small crafts and artisan’s will display their wares. Addison bored quickly with the wooden carvings, and I watched as the nanny walked him to the next table. A cherub-like woman began chatting with them. I finished the joe and gathered up my bags. When I arrived, the woman was cradling a cute, homemade plump doll. The kind you’d want to sleep with. She was singing a song and had won Addison over.

As soon as I caught up with them, my nanny began telling me what the woman had said about Addison:

Addison is a great spirit, a divine soul that has come to this earth for us. He’s wearing a suit, his body, so that he can walk with us, be with us.

The nanny and I looked at each other wide-eyed. Just the other day, we were saying the same thing. In fact one day, I had knelt next to Addison’s chair while he shuffled his favorite deck of cards of animals.

“Are you an old wise man from Poland that’s come back to this earth?”

He shook his head no.

From Russia?

Another no.

England then?

He paused and mixed his cards around. Then, he nodded “yes” and even wiggled his feet up and down in agreement.

The nanny told the woman selling crafts that we’d just talked about this same thing. The woman said she got goose pimples and couldn’t believe it.

“People should not pity these children, they should rejoice in them,” she said. “We have to know what a great gift these kids are.”

I leaned over and Addison slung his hands around me neck and hugged me. Then he kissed my cheek with a loud “smack.” I wanted to stay and talk to the lady some more, but the bags around my wrist were cutting off my circulation.

Addison blew the lady a kiss, and it was like watching a teenager touch the hand of Elvis. She swooned. As we walked down to the parking ramp, the nanny told me that the woman had begged her to bring Addison over to her, and if it was O.k. to stroke his hair and talk to him.

As I buckled Addison in, he grabbed his toes. Those angels, I thought, you just never know when you’re going to bump into one. Makes me think Elvis just might be alive afterall.