Meanwhile, Over At Casa (Sin Hogar) Petunia Face

Meet Noma:

I took that photo of Noma while lying down in the grass looking up at her. Here she is standing in front of a blank wall. I wish she'd stop making that face every time I take out the camera.

And here she is inexplicably feeding a baby deer with Willie Nelson and what I think is a girl with awesome feathered hair. Noma is the one on the far left, behind the fawn:

Noma is the newest addition to our little family. She is Zoey's imaginary friend. From what I gather, Noma is a butterfly person, larger than any of us. She has pink wings, black hair and pink eyes. In related news, my brother is a fucker because he told me he had an imaginary friend named Oma when he was little, and that Oma was also a butterfly. Then he emailed me all sorts of links to the Mothman Prophecies which freaked me the fuck out. Apparently the Mothman is a 6 or 7 foot creature with red eyes, a harbinger of disaster. Later I got a spam email from some store I had never even heard of called Mothology, and that's when I bubble-wrapped Zoey and made her sleep under the bed.
This story would be so much better if my brother hadn't eventually fessed up that he was just kidding about his imaginary butterfly friend named Oma, i.e. if my brother wasn't a fucker. (Side note: Once, a long long time ago, when I was maybe 10 and my brother 12, I told him that they used electric prods on Flipper and Mr. Ed to get them to flip and talk and act. He cried. I was totally lying, of course, although honestly, I could have been right. Still, when my brother found out I made it up, he was furious. And forever after he tells me lies and then cites the Great Flipper/Mr. Ed scandal of 1982 as legitimate retribution. Little does he know they actually pulled a nylon thread through Mr. Ed's upper lip and manipulated him like some fleshy equine marionette.)

So Zoey may or may not be friends with the Mothman, or Mothwoman seeing as how she seems to be pink. And I may or may not want these telescoping brass frame stands from the creepily timed spam email Mothology place. Make that a may.

But what is certain is that there is a film of nothing standing next to my daughter, a something to which she speaks. And while this nothing could be something: an angel with wings, an insect of the Lepidoptera order, a figure she invented to keep her company at play, I am trying very hard not to notice the name that Zoey gave her: Noma. No. Ma.

No.