Family One: The Terrances

Oh Mindi, what will I do with that girl? She is always begging me to read to her, to sleep with her, to bring her toys from China. I work for an agency which specializes in the distribution of essential materials in the life of a child. "Our Children, A Toolkit" is my book. Read it sometime. I don't recall what brings me here today, only that I need to be here for Mindi. She is crying, though I don't know why. Barbie is here, as is Teddy, Belle, and Diana. They love her so, but as their fluff and hard skin give only a hollow comfort, I must use my ability to be flesh and blood to show her compassion through the depressions of children. The apartment complex we are in is not large, but relatively so compared to the small store next door specializing in the blowing of beautiful glass ordainments. Yellow roses set on green tinted stems and amazingly precise depictions of political figures, most humorous, but not all.

The television set is turned on. More coverage on the war. There is a war? I guess my focus on the study of child emotions has taken me a little out of the loop so to speak. A loop which, in my opinion, needs to stay. We all possess that innate innocence given to us from the ages of one to around twelve but then if flies away-a hawk in the wind. But that's silly talk for men will be men and women will be… well, at least they can do something useful in this world. I don't understand why this channel needs to be on when such a sweet girl, six years of age (still in innocence), returns from her flower-picking. Her mother and father live here, a small town just south of Munich, can't recall the name however, since my home is that of the gravel, the sunrise and sunset, and everything in between.