“A few days ago, I was out in a park, sitting against a tree. It was gloomy and rainy out, but still I sat there and drew. A little boy came up and sat next to me. He looked at my paper and asked, ''What is that?'' I looked at him, and his eyes were glowing with curiosity, his head cocked to the side. ''It's a rose. A red rose.'' I don't know the child. He took my pencil and a new piece of paper and started to draw but kept it covered. He handed it back to me as it rained harder. It was a heart with a rose stabbed through it better than I could draw. I looked at him in shock. ''My daddy taught me how to draw before he went away. Now he's somewhere else. Mommy told me he was watching over us, but I can never find him. I miss my daddy.'' I hugged him and told him to go home before the rain fell harder and it got dark. I handed him my papers and pencil, and hugged him again. With that, he walked home. And me? I sat there and cried for hours.”
