I would see him sometimes. Waiting in the kitchen. Sitting in the stiff backed chair. He wore a blue uniform.
My eyes leapt on him like a mama lion. Defiantly, I kept walking to capture as many moments of love as I could. Until they called his name, my baby was mine. We were inseparable.
“Lindo” a voice called out.
And so my baby scampered down from my shoulders to go with this man.
He took away my baby.
I watched them walk down the dusty road and let my eyes lift to the left. I pondered. My mind traveled down roads of potentials:
Was he a good man?
Did he have a family?
Would my baby get enough to eat?
Would he ever adopt my baby and take him away for good?
My eyes strained to see the last glimpse of the man in the blue uniform with my little man at his side. I watched as long as I could until another darling squiggled into my arms.
Even so, I prayed. I held him in my heart.
I let God hold his hand.
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