Happiness is not a goal; it is a by-product. --Eleanor Roosevelt

a few days ago we learned that Marigold is in preparation for major renovations. the roof is literally caving in, and with hurricane season looming, the home needs some attention so it is safe for the children. apparently power tools and five-year-olds don't have a great track record together, so all of the children have to be moved out of Marigold into different children's homes throughout Kingston during the renovations. we are so thrilled that Marigold is getting some help. it really needs to be reinforced, and this is an incredible opportunity to enliven the environment. but this news is also selfishly bittersweet. we don't know if all of the children are going to return. we know that the older children will remain in their new homes due to Marigold's age-limit of 8, but it is still a question as to who of the younger children will come back to Marigold when the renovations are complete.

since hearing this news, i have found myself completely transfixed by the children's every movement. i feel like i have subconsciously devoted my time with them before the renovation to memorizing every precious detail of their personalities. i relish the moments of purity in their existence, the instances of raw childhood that are beautiful manifestations of their hearts. i live for the moments like the one i shared with Jamani today. sweating in the ninety degree sun, Tara and i had a Tom Sawyer kind of morning painting the wall of the school building yellow while all of the children were having devotion time. while painting, we could hear Jamani and Leisha standing in the doorway of the school giggling as they watched us. when we told them to go back to school they burst into laughter and ran around in circles, stopping in the same place they started. in a rush of bravery, Jamani took off from the doorway and sprinted into the backyard, screaming as he ran through the pastel picket fence to where we worked. he made the face of a child who knows exactly what he is supposed to be doing and is absolutely relishing  doing the opposite. he stuck his chubby pointer finger at us, challenging us to an impromptu game. Jamani lead me into their dilapidated fort, a blue wooden construction that houses their contraband (fallen ackee, deflated futball, folded Lucky Charms box). he positioned himself in the entryway and looked straight into my eyes, thrilled that he had drawn a friend into a game of you-can't-catch-me. Jamani let me win, immediately jumping into my arms when i held them out to him. when i picked him up, he comfortably nestled his head into the space between my chin and collarbone, allowing his soft hair to rub against my cheek as we walked together back into school. i could feel him breathing quickly from the heat and excitement, his small back rising and falling rhythmically. when we reached the schoolroom he did not want to get down and latched both of his hands onto the collar of my shirt, converting it into a swing to hang from. looking into each others eyes, we both knew exactly what was going on. with a smile, i lowered myself down to his level, set him on a chair and slid his knees under the table. with a pat on his head, i tried to leave the room as quietly as possible.

three brush strokes on the wall later, Jamani was back to play.

it is moments like this that have captured my heart in the past few days. i have become unshakably aware of how much i simply love these children.

i love the way that Raymond sticks his tongue out a little when he is lost in concentration just my my dad does. i love that Kellena picked up the tomato in her lunch today and ripped it into little pieces so she could have some with every bite. i love that Jackie spit her beans out when Ms. Mackey tried to feed them to her because she does not like beans and was not about to eat them. i love Jackie's attitude. i love how Joshua's entire face scrunches up when he is really smiling so that you can't even see his eyes. i love  watching Bimbola wash his hands-he takes the time to rub each of his fingers clean with his other hand even though he does not have soap. i love when Eric tries to get us to baby him and hold him in our laps even though he is almost eight and one of the oldest children there. i love Jamani's receding hairline. i love the moments of sibling love between Ackeem and Akeelah. i love how Victor immediately starts teething on my finger when i walk over to his crib. i love that today when i walked into the nursery, Lorraine and Huraine (twins) were leaned over the tops of their cribs playing with each other's hands. i love how mischievous Davian is and that when he blew up his balloon to make paper mache he pointed to the end of the balloon and said "titty!" before laughing until he was doubled over. i love how Matthew, Barton and Leisha have perfected a way of lying on the ground between our legs and wrapping their arms around our legs so that we are completely stuck. i love watching Danielle's eyes scan her artwork, carefully selecting where to put her next puff ball or crayon stroke. i love that Jahrine hides under cribs and pinches our ankles when we are dressing the toddlers. i love Aryana's dimples and the light in her eyes. i love watching Anna stare transfixed at Tara as they sit on the cream chair in the veranda with the breeze blowing on their faces.

i just love them.

last night after dinner Tara and i took some time to plan out our next few weeks (obviously Tara's idea). as we talked excitedly about making tambourines and modeling the solar system, there was a pause in the conversation when we were both simultaneously overcome with immense gratitude for what we are doing. we realized just how blessed we truly are. we have been given eight weeks to fall in love with children and think of ways to make them happy. how incredible is that?

this afternoon we had the children splatterpaint the wall we painted yellow. watching the children each take their turn with a paint brush and paint of their choosing was like watching their personalities come to life on the surface. Bimbola refused to splatter and instead painted a patch of blue. Raymond walked methodically down the side of the building splattering red paint evenly over the entire surface. Davian tried to knock bowls of paint out of other children's hands. Danielle chose to paint in yellow, aiming for areas with paint already there and splattering hers on top to make sure it showed. today the children got to make a mess and no one yelled at them. what a gift.

so as i sit here and grapple with the possibility of saying goodbye to these children in a few days, i am slowly realizing that i just don't want to think about it. all i want to do is be there again. i can't wait for the morning to come so i can sleep through my alarm and be woken up by Tara, eat my breakfast of two fried egg whites, climb into the backseat of Joe the neighbor's car next to one of his precious twins, jimmy the lock on the gate to Marigold, and walk in. i can't wait to round the corner in the kitchen to see all of the children sitting around the table finishing their breakfast and hear them say "Tara! Elin!"i can't wait for the first hug of the day. i can't wait to see what we will learn from the children tomorrow. because of everything they've taught us, the greatest lesson has been to enjoy life. their life is a simple one, rigidly scheduled and wrought with incomprehensible challenges. they carry burdens heavier than many backs could bear. they sleep in soaked diapers and are smacked when they cry. but they don't care. because they like how they can make circles in dirt with their toes and they like how crayon writes on many surfaces other than paper. they like sneaking into the nursery to look at the babies and they like turning walks to the bathroom into games of tag. so we're trying to unlearn our eighteen years (almost nineteen for Tara the bday girl on saturday!! yayy!!)  and enjoy every second, every moment, every touch we have with the children. because they are so, so precious.


life is good.

love having you in mine,

eeb