Two Little Girls

Last Sunday I went to Mass with the family.  Bringing a 2 1/2 year old to a religious ceremony is always a bit fraught as blog after blog after blog will tell you.  The bottom line is that the concept of a two year old sitting still when there are fun benches to be climbed over and under and people behind you to entertain is not that realistic. It takes time to train a little child that a Daddy Clamp is an incommutable sentence and that an unauthorised escape will result in a ignominious haul back to the designated seat.   We usually come armed with a little stash of small (and quiet) toys and other distractions and last Sunday was no exception, as the children clambered into our embarrassing very glamorous 17-year-old grey-8-seater,  I grabbed a few religiously themed lift-the flap books, one about The Teddy Bears Picnic and a cute one about kissing the noses of different animals.

But this week we didn't need to distract our little girl because this week there was built in entertainment sitting directly behind her.  In the form of a little girl not too much older than her.

Now this little girl unbeknownst to her mother holds a special place in my heart.  As you know, people usually sit in the same seat...on a train, on the bus, in a cafe..in Church...at Mass...every time they go...day in, day out, week in, week out....we do and so do that family.  So I have watched this little baby's life unfold from the time she was a swell in her Mummy's tummy to snuggled newborn to gurgling interactive tot to the cute little girl with almond shaped eyes, short little fingers and a little tongue which sticks out more often than it stays in.    And whose extra (special) chromosome no doubt provoked a river of broken-hearted tears.

Well these two very special girls came face to delighted face last Sunday. Each one scrubbed clean and dressed in the prettiest clothes for Sunday.  Each one pulled at and adored by her older siblings.  And each one totally oblivious during that 40 minutes to everyone else but the other.

For forty minutes those two little girls hugged, stroked each other's faces, gave toddler kisses, showed their toys and tried to lift each other up.  The other mother was completely unaware of the poignancy of this little meeting.  She doesn't know us.  She doesn't know I loved her daughter when I was so worried about my own, or that her pink little baby gave me hope.

Two little girls...one 'afflicted' with half a heart, one 'afflicted' with a heart that embraces the world without question.  One carries her special heart for all the world to see, one carries her's hidden deep inside.  Two delightful little girls delighting in each other.  Each one completely oblivious that both of them were just so...

...abortable.