the bravest little soldier

There is a six year old girl that sleeps in a pink room, in a pink bed and on a pink pillow. She wears pink clothes, puts ribbons and bows in her hair and wears a smile as big as the sun. She plays with Barbie’s, colors with chalk and rides her pink scooter. She says witty things and sings pretty songs. She loves her momma and all of her family. She loves to visit her Grammy, and spend the afternoon with pop-pop watching football, of course, always cheering for the other team. She loves her nicknames and begs to be called them. She loves her school, her teacher, her bus stop and her bus driver. She says the same prayer each night at the dinner table, "Thank you for this wonderful house, thank you for this wonderful family and thank you for this wonderful food." She loves her wonderful life.

The little girl knows this life is not her own. The wonderful life she is surrounded by, although may seem picture perfect, she knows does not belong to her. It is her transition whiles she waits for her momma to return. Before she falls asleep each night she asks her aunt and uncle to pray with her, not for her, but for her momma. She asks for protection so her mom can be safe and do her work quickly to get home sooner. Her momma is not there, to her, her momma is in another country helping other little girls have the life she has. The little girl lives in that wonderful house with her wonderful family, while her momma is away. At night she grabs the tattered, torn and tear stained picture of her momma and lays it on her pink pillow, she knows is not her own. She kisses that picture, and tells her mom she is the bravest momma and Soldier she knows. She asks her aunt to cross off the day on her "Hello Kitty" calendar; she knows it means one less day until she can hug her momma and not just the picture. She gets a hug and a kiss from her aunt and her uncle, she tells them she loves them but misses her momma. She calls the little dog, to sleep in the room that does not belong to her. The little girl knows that tomorrow is another day to spend in the life that is not her own.

Each night after that little girl falls asleep; her aunt climbs the stairs and takes the picture of the little girls’ momma, clutched between the little girls’ fingers, and places it back on the pink pillow. Her aunt tucks that little girl tighter into the pink bed and wipes the dried and salty tears off the little girls cheeks. Her aunt gives the dog one last scratch behind its ears and prays that the little dog will provide some comfort, through the night, for that little girl.

Her momma wears a uniform and is the bravest Soldier that little girl knows. The little girl doesn’t know that at six, she is the bravest little soldier her family, especially her momma, knows. That little girl who wears a smile as big as the sun, who lives in a life that isn't her own, and waits patiently for her brave mommas return. That little girl, my niece, is the bravest little soldier.