My heart pounded as I watched a lone two year old boy, diaper sagging and scraggly dog in tow, make his way down the driveway and into the street. Jon and I stopped the car right away and turned around to check on the child. I got out, walked over to him, he looked up and met my eyes with a smile. He had a band aid on his left cheek and he reached towards me and said "hi". With a sigh, I took his hand and looked up and down the street for any sign of family. I walked him over to the sidewalk, away from the traffic and then I heard her. I had expected a young mother in hysterics to come running out of the house in tears and panic, instead I got a 300 pound woman in a mumu bitching indifferently as she hobbled her way down towards us. She seemed more upset by the fact that she had to leave the house to come and get the child. She thanked me under her breath while she complained about having to add a lock to the gate but not once did she seem to love or care for the child or his well being.

It's been a few hours and I still see his face when I close my eyes. I was there by chance to be the helping hand he needed but I can't be there for him again and it breaks my heart.

I forget how therapeutic writing can be.

Show us your favorite spring bloom.

The redbud tree and it's brilliant pinkish-purple blooms

Grab and piece of paper and a pen and draw a self-portrait in under 2 minutes. Then share it with us!

So accurate that I even made my right eye smaller than my left and my hair unkempt as usual. Ha-ha! This is me in post-it form.

Post-it Portrait

Dig out that photo album and show us your high school graduation picture.
Submitted by Terri.

Nine, not so very long years ago. (Love it when VOX likes my suggestions though.)

So skinny, so young, so blond!

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