Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Story Of A Teen Girl

I saw her.
She was looking down.
Her face was obscured by her jet black hair that was flapping in the wind, and the high collar of her red knitted sweater. She was looking down at her hands which were folded at her abdomen. Her thumb was making circles on her lower stomach. For an instant I was able to see her mouth. Her lips were formed into a soft, loving, but small smile. Then I knew. What I had just witnessed was motherly love at it’s earliest and most tender moment.