The Eyes of A Child
Wide eyes,
When she laughs, it’s like watching twin sunrises on the horizon.
When she sleeps, it’s like looking at twin lakes.
Gift of God. Like digging a well, instead, I found two wells full of water, full of hope.
I could see from her eyes that she wanted to play on my lawn.
She wants to explore my plants, linger and jump around.
I could see from her eyes she wanted something from the kitchen. She wants a pie and a banana.
She wants to try my pie and grab a banana on my table.
I could see from her eyes, she wanted to enter my bedroom and try something from my wardrobe, my heels and Little Missy hat.
This little lady wants to be like me. But, she’s not mine.
She is little Anya. Her mother Maria comes to my place twice a week to clean, do the laundry, and then goes home. I found Maria’s profile on an online cleaning service app. Sometimes Maria brings little Anya. I give little Anya a chocolate bar every time she comes to my place with her mother.
One Saturday morning, this short-haired, wide-eyed, bouncing rubber ball came to my place wearing her Little Missy hat. She brought her toy, a plastic tea-set. Her mother asked her to play on the terrace. When they just arrived, I saw Anya's eyes like sunshine. She was asked by her mother to wait on the terrace. Within three hours, I saw Anya starting to lose patience. She's bored. Her eyes looked sleepy or she might be hungry. But she didn’t complain. I rushed to my kitchen and made her sandwiches.
“Anya, I made sandwiches for you. Come on in, eat and watch TV!” I invited her into my living room and I turned on the Nickelodeon TV channel.
“Thank you auntie Sarah!” Little Anya said.
“No, please don’t call me auntie, I’m not that old!” I was shocked by the word 'aunt'.
“How old are you?” Little Anya asked.
“I’m 17 years old,” I answered.
“My mom is 19 years old, so, you are like my auntie Hilda.” Little Anya said.
“You’re right! Okay! In that case you can call me auntie Sarah.” I replied with a smile.
“How old is your dad?” I asked. I couldn’t stand my curiosity.
“MOM, HOW OLD IS DADDY???” Little Anya shouted, asking her mother.
"Oops!" I muttered. I didn’t see it coming. So embarassing! I shouldn’t have asked something like that. I hope her mother didn’t hear it.
“Dad is 18 years old,” Maria answered from the stairs.
“Uhm, I’m sorry Maria! We were just talking about why Anya called me auntie.” I said to Maria.
“Mommy, auntie Hilda is about the same age as auntie Sarah,” Little Anya explained with a cute voice.
“My daughter calls my sister auntie,” Maria said.
“My husband was younger than me. We got married after graduating from high school." "He delivers Pizza!" Maria explained.
"Yeah, my dad is a Pizzaman!" Anya added.
"So, in Anya’s eyes, girls my sister’s age are like her aunt.” Maria added.
“I see!" "Uhm, Anya, you have a Little Missy hat like mine, but mine is white, yours pink.” I said, trying to change the subject.
“O, this?" "This is my beautiful lady hat,” Little Anya replied.
