Though I cannot remember their names, I remember the faces of the little girls I held in my arms those last few days of the camp. I think I took for granted the profound impact my touch had on them, and they on me. There is one picture in particular that brings me immediately back to the shelter, and I have her in my arms again and can feel her gentle touch, the way she held me as if she never wanted to let me go, and they sweet way she looked into my eyes.
I think I was afraid to get too close to her. I knew I would be leaving her soon. But more than her safety, I feel I was afraid to become too attached and dependent on this little girl. Other children needed me! Other little girls and boys exclaimed when they saw me! I had to spread my time around. This was a convenient excuse to not dig deeper. Maybe this was the reason why I did not cry when I left. Maybe this is the reason why I tear up now.
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