she'd stepped outside the laundermat, tiny steps, as she was a little thing. she did a small slide towards the wall, parked herself there. her back against the wall, she slid down to the floor. tears in her eyes she let out a big sigh.
i turned my eyes to inside the laudermat to see where might these tears be coming from. who was responsible, and was someone coming to make it better. no one came. only the sounds of machines humming with the sounds of squishy washings, and tumbling drying came out.
i wanted to walk over to the little one, dry her tears and find out what was wrong. maybe help to make it better. but i was afraid. mammas and daddys don't like strangers near their children. understandable completely. so i moved on. pity.
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4 comments:
Estás inspirada...
Well over ten years ago there was a little girl at the check out line at Ikea. She was hysterical and her parents were unmoved by their daughter's tears. I created a narrative in my mind of scooping her up and holding her and giving her a home where tears were responded to. I, of course, walked away and did not follow my impulse. However, for all these years that little girl has had a home in my heart. I hope, somehow, that someone somewhere caring about her tears made some difference.
hey Sweet Nuri...:) i hope so!
Belette, this is a lovely lovely story to add to the collection of tears we wish we could wipe away... (wounded healers:)
I recognize that feeling of wondering how the story ended... I just pray in my thoughts when.
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