There was a silver plated bracelet clasped around his wrist, inscribed on it his name and nothing else. I held the child in my lap, his adorably chubby hands resting on mine during a game of musical chairs. I was volunteering at the Casa Hogar Orphanage in Sonoyta, Mexico through a mission trip in the summer of 2010. There were approximately thirty children, all below the age of ten, gathered in the courtyard of a considerably worn down building complex. Laundry was hung outside upon the tan walls, the otherwise vibrant colors of the clothes faded dull from being worn too often. The ground was an expanse of cracking cement and crumbly dirt, no sign of toys or playthings anywhere. The boy's name was Javier. His mother, single, had left him in the care of this orphanage when he was but an infant. It surprised me how instantaneously open and welcoming he and the children were toward me and other volunteers, whom they had never met before. If the smeared cheeseballs around his mouth was any indication, he was thoroughly enjoying himself. Volunteering is one of my greatest passions because of the hope it gives me when witnessing genuine smiles like the one plastered on Javier's.
I'd love any feedback! Criticisms and edits welcome!
I'd love any feedback! Criticisms and edits welcome!
