I have this weird memory of
going into the women’s bathroom at some restaurant – and you know, I don’t even
remember which one it was, even though it was pretty recent, Luigi’s maybe but
I’m not sure – and there was a lady there changing her kid. He couldn’t have
been more than a few months old. I never can tell these things. I just saw
these bare little legs in the air. Even just writing those words punches me in
the chest with how that made me feel. That kid was so helpless. Couldn’t even
change his or her own diaper. Let’s just say it was a he. He went wherever his
parents decided to take him, wore anything they thought was okay. Worse than
that, he couldn’t understand when they treated him wrongly, if they did, and I
don’t know, because I peed quickly and washed my hands and left, all before she
finished doing up his onesie.
I feel for kids even if
they don’t know enough to feel for themselves.
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