Some things will never change, and some things will never be the same

Some things will never change, and some things will never be the same                   02.09.10

A woman was taking an early morning walk on the beach to soak in the salty air and listen to the sound of the rushing waves, when she noticed a small girl standing on the shoreline not too far off. The girl with tousled sandy blonde hair that blew softly in the wind stood there, not moving a muscle, as though she were completely tranquilized by movement of the ocean. As the woman moved closer she noticed that the small blonde stood rigid, with hands shoved in pockets, jaw set, with a determined glare, not a tranquil stare. “How could a small girl with so few years on her plate be so stern?” The woman thought to herself. Having seen the child, the woman’s brow furrowed as she continued to walk down the beach, unable to shake the image from her head. She thought of the circumstances that the girl perhaps had come from. Could it have been abuse, neglect, hurtful words, or so many other things? Little girls aren’t supposed to have burdens, they are supposed to have fun, play, dress up, be the little princesses that all the stories and movies portray them to be. This particular little girl, though, was anything but the innocent child we so often picture. Her toughened exterior screams for reprieve, for someone to reach out and help her, while at the same time, it tells the world that she doesn’t need anyone but herself, and that she’d prefer to be alone. As the woman glanced back over her shoulder, she caught the girl staring after her, longing for some kind of connection. She held her gaze until the girls head dropped down, then she turned and continued walking, heart heavy and saddened. She wanted to run to the small girl and wrap her arms around her and tell her everything was going to be okay, but she couldn’t, she simply couldn’t. Her throat tightened as she walked more quickly through the cool early morning sand. No little girl should be so alone, so hardened, so scarred. She glanced back for one more look, but all she saw were the waves crashing against the shore, illumined by the pinkish hues of the morning light. The tiny reflection of herself was gone almost as eerily as she appeared, but didn’t leave before leaving a haunting memory in her mind. Oh how her heart ached to go back and take the little girl in her arms and carry her off to a better place where she could play and laugh and know what it was like to not have pain.

K. Foxwell