Storm Shelter

The only benefit of being the oldest girl in the children’s shelter is being allowed entrance into the children’s storm shelter baby room. Each of the babies in this room had been abused or mistreated by their caregivers. I could understand that right? One day I was in the baby room, which was markedly the sunniest place inside the storm shelter. There was one little baby boy, his skin was dark, whether by birth or by the burns his mother had put all over him, I don’t know. My inner sun felt pulled to this squalling bundle of pain. The nurse in the room cautioned me that any touch was severely painful to this little boy, yet my heart was pulled to him. I gently bent over his stark white crib, he seemed so tiny, fragile, and lonely. Everyone seemed to steer clear of him in fear of causing him pain leaving him abandoned to human touch. I slid one hand under his scarred head and my other hand slid around his body as I picked him up. I brought him into my chest, holding him next to my heart, all the while humming to him softly as he screamed in pain. Within a minute his heart wrenching screams subsided as his inner storm passed. I held him all day long, and hated to put him back down. I fed him that day, pouring my overabundant and under given love to this beautiful little boy.