The “Forgotten” One

In the crowded, dirty street she sits most days. She’s only seven, but as alone as one could be in this world. The sounds of Kampala, Uganda is all she’s ever known. Dirty, ragged mess would be the words used to describe her. Those that see her are forced to avoid her hollow eyes. They hold too much pain. They look away to preserve their own souls. Pitiful as she is, she still has questions. There are some on the street who have lost this gift. She understands. Being numb seems a better way to survive. But for now, she is left wondering why…
She sees a mother carrying a baby and wonders why she doesn’t remember her own mother. She takes a moment to imagine one, but like smoke, it quickly fades. It seems like everyone has someone. Even orphans like herself seem to have a brother or a sister. She wonders why she is forgotten. At that moment a bird flies above the street, singing a tune that causes her eyes to gaze upward. for a moment, the feeling of loneliness is gone…
She sees across the street, a man buying plenteous amounts of food from a vendor. For a moment she dreams the food will be for her and wonders who will eat it all? Why does no one buy food for her? She wonders why she is forgotten. At that moment, a gentle breeze blows past her face, causing her to feel a moment of rest from the searing heat. For a moment, her sadness blows away with the breeze…
People seem so angry. They carry stern faces and are always going quickly from somewhere, to somewhere. They seem important when they have somewhere to go. She wonders why she comes from nowhere and goes nowhere. She wonders why she is so forgotten and unimportant. At that moment a cart rushes past, spilling a piece of fruit at her feet. She quickly picks it up and treasures her gift from no one, and for a moment forgets about “somewhere”.
Another day in the same street, she would usually try to forget. But tonight as the sun goes down, she actually gives thought to the day. For a reason she can’t explain, she remembers the little bird, and the song. She remembers a breeze and her special piece of fruit. She wonders again, but this time, instead of wondering WHY she is forgotten, she wonders IF she is forgotten. Didn’t someone make this world? IF they did, did they make HER? If they made her, do they CARE? If they care, is she FORGOTTEN? At that moment in a sky filled with twinkling stars, a shooting star caught her eye …and it was then she knew the answer. In this moment, she was not forgotten.

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