Mommy

A little girl called me “mommy” today. At first I thought she was saying, “Molly” but the other LSEs quickly commented that she kept saying, “Mommy” not “Molly.” She could not stop saying, “Mommy, mommy help me color.” As I went to her, helped her color, held her, and played with her hair, I could not stop wondering what happened to her real mom? Did she abandon her? Did she die of AIDS? Is she a drug addict and present but not there? As these questions flooded my head I looked around the room and realized this little girl is not the exception to the rule. This is life for many of these children: life without a mother. My heart breaks for these children tonight. Here I am, a young woman who is the only mother figure this child has. I cannot imagine my life without my mom so my heart breaks. My heart broke as I heard her sweetly yet desperately say “Mommy.” My heart breaks because I know she is not the only one. My heart breaks at the reality of the situation. My heart breaks at the multitudes of times I take my mother for granted. My heart breaks for this generation of children who raising themselves and calling out “mommy” in the desperate hope that someone, somewhere will hear, listen, and help.