Yesterday on the bus headed home, I had the most pleasant ride. There was a tiny African baby sitting on her mother's lap at the front of the bus. Her small head had miniscule braids popping out every which way, with bright barettes hanging from the end of each one. Her little flat nose matched her mother's and her brother's, who was sitting close-by. She alternately stood and sat, watching out the window and playing with Mom's face as we rumbled on.
Seeing her smile and be content made me think of the future when I'll have foster kids living with me, and our times together. I hope that when messed-up kids are put in my care, they'll come to feel security when near me that I remember feeling growing up when I was next to my mom or dad.
(imagine butterflies and clouds of pink glitter to add to the pleasantness)