Carolyn

Carolyn and I took a trip to the mall this afternoon. Not an everyday thing. As a full-time working mom, spending quality time with my own family is almost strictly, though not voluntarily, forbidden. Nonetheless, precious is she. I may go against what my heart tells me, but no; I didn't forget about her.

Although her character may not incorporate opulence, those bright candy green eyes and wavy brown hair more than complement the splendor of modern gaudery. Beholding the magnificence of civilization, her wide-open eyes almost seemed to be lost in distance. For an instant, I wondered what lied beyond that lively green, and craved for something that had been lost since my childhood: innocence.

"I should bring her out more often," I thought to myself.

That's when we ran into him in wheelchair. Two legs were missing. He smiled, his face heavily scarred from a source unknown.

Suddenly, Carolyn raised up her little finger.

"Mom, look at him."

Numerous thoughts instantly swam through my mind, my cheeks flushed. She was a little girl. And what then? He was handicapped. Of course the pointing was impolite. Of course she should’ve known better to do so. I bent over then to whisper my dark civil thoughts. Almost in harmony with my mortified reaction she said, "His hat is so cute."