At one point in the afternoon, Milenys came to me, worry etched on her face.
“Tia Pamela, do you know my Mommy?”
“Yes honey, I know your Mommy.”
“Tia Pamela, do you know I live in Penonome and not in our house with Daddy by Abuela’s house?”
“Yes, honey, Abuela Gloria told me you and Mommy live in Penonome.”
“Tia Pamela, if I tell you where I live, can you come and find me?”
She then gave me a rather sophisticated five year old version of directions.
“Tia Pamela, you go where the road turns right. Right is this hand. Left is my other hand. You go until you see the green house, and you turn down that road. You go for a long time. When you see the trampoline in the yard, turn there. The road is bumpy. You go a long way. When you see the house with the broken car, I live near that house. Not near the road. Near the house with the broken car.”
I had the feeling she was asking me something more than geographical, asking if I could come and find her, and it nearly broke my heart. She’s small and vulnerable, and my ability to influence this situation for the better is not very great.