just scratching the surface

Me:    If you could go back, right now, and stay, would you?
Child: Yes. I would miss you all, but it's hard being here. It's hard trying to be two places.

Me:    The first time I ever did your hair, why did you cry? You couldn't tell me then because you had no English. Do you remember that? Was it because it hurt? Was it because you didn't like the braids?
Child:  Because I wanted my mom to do my hair, not you.

Child:  The first day we were in USA we went to a park. I thought you were leaving me there. I was scared.
Me:     Did it help that Samantha held your hand?
Child:  A little. I didn't know her name though. I thought you would leave me at the park.

Child: Sometimes, I want to go back to being three-years-old, and go back to Ethiopia, before, when I was three.
Me:   I am so sorry.

Me:   How do you feel when you think of your mom and dad?
Child: Sometimes, I cry. And I think I will be alone forever.


Trying to heal the gaping wounds.
Trying to not make new ones.
Trying to find the source of the bleeding and staunch.
Trying to fill in the gaps with light and love.
Almost a year.
Almost a year.