That girl

That girl looks so much like my girl.

I recognize her curls and her reaching hand.

I know her pink shoes.

What I thankfully don’t recognize on my own girl’s face is the fear.

Since I’ve first seen the picture, we’ve all learned more about the girl and her mother. We know parts of their story and that they were not separated. But they could have been. And so many were; that’s where I find it tragic. And kids are under foil blankets and playing behind fences and living in tent cities without their moms and dads. And they are kids.

They are kids.

How can that be controversial?

They are kids.

 

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