You run for me to chase you but slow down and look over your shoulder if I don’t catch you soon enough to smother you with kisses and hugs.
You repeat the things I say with a garbled, squeaky toddler voice.
You sit as close as possible when I read to you.
You pat my arm when you want to comfort me.
I pour love into your heart, and you pour love into mine.
Yet, halfway around the world are children who were burned with chemicals until they choked and died, and I ached to hold them and heal them, and I could not.
And I don’t know what this means.
You, me, and the evil in the world.
You, me, and the pain we can’t heal.