A rose can say "I love you",
orchids can enthrall,
but a weed bouquet in a chubby fist,
yes, that says it all.
~Author Unknown
“I’ll see you at 12:30.”
“Okay.”
“Love you.”
“Love you, too”
My mother had been dropping me off at Strong Minds Child Development Center since the beginning of April. My mom works for the county library as an Early Literacy Outreach specialist, which means she does storytime at daycares. Strong Minds was just one of the many poorly named daycares.
When I arrived, Paige opened the door. Her long black hair was tied up in a bun on top of her head. Page had worked there for 2 years.
Inside the daycare, a large room was decorated with finger painting and papers covered with scribbles. The room was divided in half with a wooden gate to separate the babies from the older kids. One wall was lined with shelves full of toys and cots. Jordan ran up to me and gave me a hug.
“Hi Jordan.” I said.
“What’s your name?” Jo Jo asked in his high voice. He was sitting at the table behind me playing with his Angry Birds.
“You know my name.”, I said, What’s your name?” I sat down on one of the teeny-tiny chairs at the table.
“Jo Jo Isadore Lewis.” Jo Jo was one of four children with odd names. There was Carmin Lilly, Dominic Bosco, Joseph Isadore, and Maximilian Leo. They all looked exactly the same: big brown eyes and light brown hair. The four of them were often poorly dressed: Carmin wore the same clothes two days in a row while Dominic always dressed like a tourist, plaid pants and a Hawaiian floral shirt. Jo Jo, on the other hand, wore shorts and a t-shirt in December. And little Maxi, who was just learning to walk, wore clothes three sizes too small.
Layla stared wide eyed as a squirrel ran across the fence.
“Wow”. Her mouth hung open in awe. The squirrel jumped onto a tree branch and scurried out of site.
“Hey,” she squealed. Layla was two and under the delusion that she could turn into a cat. She would purr and meow and nuzzle her head up against you. Layla was the definition of sweet. When her mom dropped her off in the morning, she always ran up to Paige and said, “Hey beautiful!”
“Daffy!” Aaliyah shouted from the baby’s side. Aaliyah had a big afro nearly the size of her; she had even bigger sass. She called me at least a hundred different names. Daffy was one of them.
“Hi Liyah,” I said. She walked to me with a toy phone up to her ear.
“Hello,” she said into the phone.
Liyah held the phone up to my ear. “Hello Aaliyah.”
“Hi Gophie,” she said into the phone. “Bye bye.”
Aaliyah was the youngest of three. Her siblings included Aubrey, seven, Alijah, four, and Aaliyah, almost two. The three of them lived in a little 2 bedroom apartment with their mother in Southgate. Aubrey and Alijah shared the bedroom in the back. Aubrey’s bed was covered with all things Hello Kitty. She had a Hello Kitty bedspread, pillow, sheets, and blanket. Her Hello Kitty slippers sat at the foot of her bed.
Alijah’s bed was covered with everything Ninja Turtles. His blanket lay the end of the bed; he liked to tie the blanket around his head and pretend he was a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle himself.
Aaliyah and her mom shared the other bedroom. A queen sized bed and an old TV were crammed into the little room. Two windows on the wall facing the door were covered by blinds. The closet door was slightly open and inside were a bunch of Aaliyah's teeny tiny clothes.
Although many of the kids at the daycare were very protective of their younger siblings, Alijah was especially protective of Aaliyah. Once, I witnessed Alijah tell a little boy who was poking and annoying Aaliyah, that he had his eye on him. Waylon, who wasn’t even two, kept tapping Aaliyah’s shoulder. Aaliyah screamed to stop and Alijah turned around so fast he nearly knocked his chair over. He just stared at Waylon for a few minutes.
“You better stop poking Li-Li. I got my eye on you.” said Alijah. Waylon just stared at him dumbfounded.
Aaliyah walked up to me with the yellow Belle dress in her hand.
“Dophie, put on.” She lifted her arms up so I could help her put on the dress. I slipped the dress over her Tweety bird shirt and matching shorts. I secured the velcro in the back, and she stepped back and smoothed out the dress. She spun around like a princess.
“I be beautiful Daffy!” she beamed.
The kids finished eating their lunch: tacos and applesauce. One by one they walked to the front room to take their naps. The babies were already asleep in their cribs by the time the older kids finished their lunch. The older kids removed their shoes and laid down on their cots except for Aria, who refused to take off her shoes. She slept in them everyday.
A knock came at the door. My mom was waiting for me outside.
“See ya Soph,” said Paige.
“See ya,” I said.
“How was your day?” my mom asked when we were outside.
“Fine.” I got into the car and fastened my seat belt. I pushed the black power button on the radio and Katy Perry’s “Roar” blared from the speakers: “I got the eye of the tiger, a fighter, dancing through the fire. ‘Cause I am a champion and you’re gonna hear me roar!”
I couldn’t help but sing along.
A green arrow flashed on the dashboard accompanied by an annoying beep. My mom turned onto Memorial Parkway.
“You're gonna hear me roar…”
The song ended and the radio station cut to a commercial. My mom turned the corner onto our street. My next door neighbor Kalum, along with his mom and baby brother, were outside taking a walk. Kalum raced ahead on his little bike. His mom trailed behind pushing his little brother in a stroller. My mom pulled into our driveway.
“I have to work late, so I probably won’t be home until around seven,” she said.
“Okay.”
“Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
I hopped out of the car and walked up to the steps to our nice little house. Our nice little house in our little town with all its nice people. While Just a few miles away, a little girl was growing up in a tiny apartment that reeked of smoke with a daddy that she never saw; all because she wasn’t as lucky as the rest of us.
Aaliyah was no worse of a person than Kalum or his baby brother. She had just gotten the short end of the stick.
There are no seven wonders of the world in the eyes of a child. There are seven million. ~Walt Streightiff
