Chloe, before

As a teacher - or teacher's aide, which was my position - you're not supposed to have favorites. But I did, of course.

I had Chloe.

Chloe was this goofy, smiley little 3-year-old. She was sweet to everyone and intentionally funny. She had a gorgeous head of dark wavy hair that framed her precious little heart shaped face. I never could decide whether it was her huge, round brown eyes or the smile that stretched from ear to ear that most enchanted me.

Chloe came from one of those too-good-to-be true families. Her parents were a little bit older and seemed to have plenty, which, in this particular school usually meant that pick up, drop off and most other parental duties were performed by a member of the family's staff. But not Chloe's family.

Chloe's tall, thin, beautiful mommy was at pickup every day, squatting down to greet her baby as if it had been days since they'd seen each other. Chloe would see her mom and virtually explode with joy, jumping up off the circle carpet to run into her arms. The scene was the same first thing in the morning, but with daddy and Chloe sharing special morning rituals.

In addition to them just being the nicest people you could hope to know, Chloe's family were Gators. BIG Gators. Bull Gators, in fact. They never missed a home game, because Chloe's dad had his own plane, which he'd had painted orange and blue. We made the Gator connection early and I couldn't help but feel like that made me one of their favorites - just like Chloe was mine.

When I left late in the year to have my first baby, Chloe's mom was one of few parents to present me with a gift - a beautiful smocked dress from a store that I have dared to enter maybe twice in my life. It's in the box of baby things I just can't give up.

I haven't seen Chloe in 6 years, but her family's infectious happiness still inspires me. In fact, when we named our own Chloe, I hoped that a little of the name would rub off. It was impossible for me to think of Chloe as just a name. No, Chloe was a word that called to mind my favorite preschooler, and that meant so much more.

So when Matt came home last night and asked if I'd heard about "the plane", my heart sunk into my stomach. He went on to say that a Bull Gator's plane had gone down in the Everglades on the way from Gainesville to Ft. Lauderdale.

Not the Barbers, I said, with tears instantly filling my eyes. Please not the Barbers...

But it was the Barbers. All of them lost, presumed dead in a fiery Everglades crash.

All, except for Chloe.

Chloe, now 10, stayed home to go to a sleepover while her mom, dad & brother went to the game. It was a decision that left her behind, forever.

I have to be honest, I am wrestling with this one.