Focusing on Who is Present

“Who do you think made this, mom?”

The display of a miniature house welcomed us in the library.  I was reading the information right on the table . . .

“A miniaturist.” She is exactly called that.  I could not help but to take some pictures until a lady sipping soda approached us.

“Hi, my sister made this.  So if you have any questions, just ask.”

My daughter and I got a personal virtual tour of the house and around it (virtual, because we could not get inside the display case and the miniature house itself). The house is a replica very close to their house they lived in in the state of Virginia, complete with farm and tons of animals.  There were even pictures of their actual family all over the display.

The lady talking to us look like she is about 70, so the house must be a replica from sixty years ago, in the fifties. Wow.

My daughter and I were amazed about the detail of the art. 

For once in a long time, I found a common enjoyment we did together (aside from spending money shopping).

My daughter, she is so important to me, my only female child.  I love my son too, but he is not with me.
He ran away. Yes, he ran away from his temporary foster home for chronic run away boys.

I focus on my daughter now.  She is here, even a little forced (maybe) because she wears an ankle monitor to keep her at home and stop sneaking out in the middle of the night, or leaving the house for days.

I went away for thirteen hours to a busy day at the hospital today.  It is one of those days when both patients I had a code brown, twice. 

I got home and I see her, my precious daughter. The malodorous aroma the got stuck in my nose was forgotten.

She is here at home.

As for my son, I pray for him.