Sacred Bond

The teacher animatedly reads a story. Little faces look at her enraptured, perhaps transporting themselves to an imaginary world of fanciful characters and dreamy settings. The soft music playing in the background adds to the relaxed ambiance. The kids sit close to one another, some holding hands, others crossed legged, while a few inching their way slowly towards the story teller.

Away from this group, peripherally, sits a little girl. Her posture droopy, weary almost as if she will collapse momentarily. Her hair tussled, her eyes although fixed on the book, glassy and pale.

She doesn’t see the woman enter the room. Unusual for her to miss as she is always attentive, observant of anyone’s arrival. The second teacher smiles at the woman and fills her in. The woman listens intently, her worried eyes fixated on the girl. She politely thanks the teacher, walks across the room quietly to where the girl sits. She is inches away from her, yet she goes unnoticed. She taps the girl gently on her shoulder, she doesn’t respond. She bends down and gives her a hug. The girl flinches, takes a moment to register, then hugs her back limply. The girl feels warm, listless in her arms and when she tilts the girl’s head upwards to make eye contact, she notices tears streaming down the tiny, flushed face.

I don’t feel good, says the girl falteringly.

The woman picks her up and carries her out of the building towards the parked car. As she puts the girl gently in her seat, the girl gives her a kiss, her delicate face breaking into a smile. A faint, indiscernible smile but enough to cement the powerful, sacrosanct bond they share as a mother and a daughter.