Sophonie, she scratches words on peach-colored concrete with a sliver of yellow chalk.
She points to them and then to herself. “God. Me. Father. Mother.”
I brim and pull her close. “Yes. God. He’s your father and your mother.”
And He’s enough.
Jeffrey’s fifteen, he says. He speaks English. I ask how long he’s been here at the orphanage. “Two years,” he answers. He carries a Creole-English dictionary.
He and Sophonie speak to each other. “She doesn’t understand you,” he says.
“I know,” I sigh. “We teach each other.”
I want to know his story. But I’m afraid to ask. Afraid to dredge up memories. Afraid I’ll cry.
I’m sharing over at bibledude.net today. Come for the rest?
In the stillness,
Oh, and your eyes are not playing tricks on you.
The dude himself is renovating the house.
I can’t wait to read the rest of this.