Every time I am in Haiti I see a child like her in the village. Filthy, covered in snot and crying, wandering around. She is so small with no parents in sight. I wonder which house is hers. Another small child seems to be dragging her around, I assume they are siblings. I do have hope that when she turns 3 that her parents will send her to our school and she can become another smiling face like the ones we see there. But for now this is her life, her misery, the hand she is dealt to live. I want to bath her and hold and console her but I can't this day.
No comments:
Post a Comment