To Be Seen


When I was a girl, and then yesterday, too, I used to pray, not for world peace or an end to poverty, but instead, to be seen.

I would get found in a game of Hide and Go Seek because I would run out from my place of hiding when a car drove by, just in case that car held a person who would see me, who would stop the car and say, “You, you right there, you’re a special one.”

It didn’t matter that my mother said it daily. I needed it, even then, from someone who didn’t have to love me.

When I see a special little girl now – aren’t they all? – I stop her, “You, you right there, you’re a special one.” I see her face light up. I see myself. I see a moment of peace.