Children

I saw two children the other day. Here on base. I don’t know why they were here, but I liked seeing them. It was the first time I had seen children since I walked away from the uncertain hands and faces of my own children pressed against the glass at the air terminal three months ago.

The children I saw here were a brother and sister. They were beautiful. The boy was probably six, dressed in a polo shirt and brown pants, with a head full of thick black hair that begged to be ruffled. The girl, about 8, was wearing a pink striped shirt and had loose, black curls half way down her back. In a way, I felt sorry for them. Children shouldn’t be in this place. There is no grass, no trees big enough to climb, no flowers. No playgrounds, no toys. Only dust and heat and diesel fumes.

What is more, people in this place don’t act as if there are children. Perhaps it is the lack of children that makes people here act the way we do. We are a little harsher. Less patient. Less kind. Less concerned about others. I think God is wise to spread a constant supply of children around the world. I think they make the world a nicer place for all of us.

Even though I feel a little sorry for the children, I am selfishly glad that I saw them.