I can't remember a morning growing up that I didn't trudge into the kitchen for coffee, even through college when I was home for a break, and hug whichever unsuspecting parent was about. Hugs hello, goodbye, pre dinner hugs, pre bedtime hugs, haven't talked to you today hugs.
Last night I stayed up on the rooftop with about 10 of the younger boys. Lulu, a sharp eyed and beautiful 10 year old sat beside me. We only recently became friends, he was a tough nut to crack. Having said that, we are now the best of friends. And as he would shake my knee last night saying, elizabet, zibet, what's this... Adamantly pointing to some object or another or acting out a gesture in hopes of helping me on my crusade for creole. We hadn't spent much time in conversation because he is shy and there is the language barrier, so it was a delight and a surprise to find that my sweet 10 year old teacher has a lisp. Once my ear began honing in on creole, I realized my precious teacher was indeed a 10 year old baby with a speech impediment.
When I hug lulu, he holds on until I let go. And I think, this is not a distant Haitian orphan, this is a baby who needs a hug.
That makes two of us.
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