Making a New Friend

The colors of their drawings seemed to leap off the paper, a vibrant splash against the quiet afternoon. Lily, with her tongue peeking out in concentration, carefully dipped her paintbrush into the bright yellow. Beside her, Tom, his brow furrowed in a way that looked much older than his years, was busy making a very large, very blue spaceship. They were at the big, friendly house, the one Ms. Clara called a “safe place.” It wasn’t home, not really, but it was starting to feel… okay.

Ms. Clara had brought them here after a very confusing and scary morning. Their parents had looked so sad, their voices wobbly like jelly. And then, strangers had come, and Lily and Tom had to leave their toys, their beds, and their Mommy and Daddy. They’d been so scared, clinging to each other like two little boats tossed in a storm. But Ms. Clara’s voice had been like a calm harbor, smooth and quiet. She’d held their hands, and told them they were going somewhere safe, somewhere warm.

And it was. The beds were soft, with blankets that smelled like sunshine and laundry soap. The food was yummy, especially the fluffy pancakes at breakfast. And the grown-ups here, like Ms. Clara and Mr. Ben, always had kind smiles and gentle hands. They didn’t shout, and they didn’t rush.