Life has a way of working out.
I met him when I went to Managua to bring back our newly adopted 6-year old daughter. That’s her. The one in the red shirt with bangs and a little pageboy haircut.
Every day for a week, I would go to the orphanage and we would hang out, she and I. Each of us being monolingual in our own way, we spent a lot of time drawing pictures and practicing writing her name. Generally, we would sit on the floor of the toddler hut amidst kids in playpens and kids in walkers.
That’s where I met Mario.
He was a little guy – maybe two or two and a half. He buzzed around us in a walker, one of those that have a…
View original post 553 more words