My daughter was one of the most socially adept people I have ever met. From the youngest age, she captivated people with her vibrant, bubbly personality. She was always happy, unless she was very ill.

Olivia’s love of people made her watchful and observant. She liked to study people—their faces, their mannerisms, the way they used their hands (or didn’t), the way they held themselves when they spoke, their shifting facial expressions.

The way Olivia stared at people could be unnerving. She especially liked to fix her gaze on me at the dinner table. And I don’t mean the occasional glance quickly dropped when she realized I’d noticed—I mean a full-on, unblinking stare, like the third eye of Shiva!

One night at the dinner table, after a long and draining day, I found I didn’t have my usual tolerance for Olivia’s third-eye stare. An ancient, childish complaint rose up in me: “MO-om! She’s staring at me!”

I laid my fork down on the table and leaned forward.

“Olivia, why do you stare at me like that? What on earth are you thinking? It’s disconcerting.”

Silence.

“Olivia, why are you staring at me?”

Silence.

Then, in a soft, guileless voice, Olivia smiled sweetly and said,
“Because you’re so pretty.”