Welcome to Gaia! ::

I saw that little girl again. She's there almost every day. Hair always tucked up in the same cap, same filthy clothes. She's deathly skinny, and I left a whole meatloaf sandwich on a napkin on top of the garbage can today for her. I know it's her that picks through the trash. I saw her doing it a week back. She looks so sad, but skittish enough that I'm convinced if I were to approach her, she'd scatter to the wind. I wonder if she knows how to read. Maybe if I left her a nice lunch tomorrow with a cool glass of milk and a few cookies along with a note... would that work? I could have her give me some sort of sign that she's read it, and maybe from there I can leave her a piece of paper, and if she wants she can write back. If she's homeless, that's awful and I'd take her in just to put some meat on those skinny bones of hers. From a distance, she's a pretty little thing. I feel a little terrible for her. Every morning she's here, and every night she's here. Always across the street, always looking at my roses. Maybe I'll leave one of them for her tomorrow. I think that's what I'll do, and I'll report back.

I've started a new quilt today that I hope to donate to the church as soon as I'm finished. I'll dig through my fabrics and see if I can make that little girl something new to wear. I wonder what her favorite color is. Maybe I'll make something the color of her eyes. They're a really pretty golden-yellow. Very unusual. I can't stop thinking about that poor little thing. I wonder where she goes all day. I wonder where her family is. I wonder what her favorite cookies are. Sometimes I stay awake at night, wondering if she's safe and warm. Is she hungry? Does she cry herself to sleep? I can't imagine a proper mother letting their child wander the streets, feeding themselves by digging through the trash of strangers. I wonder what her name is.

I'd better get to sleep. Tomorrow I'll leave her another sandwich along with some paper and a pencil. And a rose. We'll see what happens.

The sun had yet to break through the low-lying clouds. Early morning air, crisp and cool as always, bit through the ratty clothes that Calanthe tucked carefully around her too-thin body. She was going back to the house to snatch up the food that she knew that brown-haired lady would leave for her. In the past days her stomach had been utterly full and she'd been able to sleep better than she had in months past. It was amazing what a full stomach could do for someone. Each day that the woman had left food she'd also left a pretty rose -- a different color each day -- and those flowers now sat in the little shack that Calanthe called home. She was painstakingly drying them and though their colors faded, the kindness behind those gifts were still there and it was a reminder to Calanthe that the world was not always such an ugly place to call home. Next to the drying flowers rested the pencil and pad of paper that the woman had left. Cal knew that the woman wanted to communicate with her... but Calanthe just wasn't ready for that step. Not yet. The woman -- Daphne -- had said as much in the letter she'd left. Calanthe just wasn't sure she was ready for that again. She was doing perfectly well on her own, thank you.

Tugging the cap down over her hair, Cal scampered towards the woman's house. It was strange to Cal that a lady so nice and welcoming lived utterly and completely alone. Calanthe had never seen the lady with a man or with a child. As she made her way to the woman's house - Daphne's house - she couldn't help but wonder why she kept going back. It was obvious she'd been seen digging through the trash, and instead of Daphne putting a lock on the rubbish bin or calling the authorities, the woman had been setting out delicious food and was actually trying to make contact with Calanthe.

It was kind of unsettling. They (Cal's past caretakers) had always been nice in the beginning but then it had become 'too busy' 'going out' 'find your own food' and soon enough Calanthe was always back on the street again, taking care of herself. She'd gotten pretty good at it, the whole taking care of herself thing, and it was easier this way. Less mess, less hurt, less pain, less heartache.

Skulking along the alley that ran alongside Daphne's house, the wisp of a girl came to a shuddering halt. Daphne sat there on the side stoop of the cottage, softly humming to herself and knitting. Calanthe watched, transfixed, as Daphne deftly handled the needles. She was making something with a pretty yellow-gold yarn, and against her better judgement Calanthe took a halting step forward before crouching down and wrapping her arms around her shins. Chin on her knees, Calanthe watched Daphne knit.

"Do you know how to knit?" Daphne said softly, never taking her eyes off of the needles gently clasped in her hands. "I can teach you if you have an interest in it." Only then did she raise her bright blue eyes to the filthy girl that watched with such rapt attention. "I've got your lunch ready here. Since I didn't get a note back from you I thought it was time for us to meet properly. Now," she said, clacking the needles together with unearthly speed, "you know my name and you've eaten my food. I don't know your name and I'd very much like to." She sent Calanthe a look over the glasses that perched on her nose, groomed brows rising expectantly.

Calanthe's first instinct was to run. Run and not look back. There were plenty of trash bins around, plenty of places to find food. But... there was something about Daphne, something welcoming despite her softly stern tone, that made Calanthe want to wrap her arms around Daphne's waist and bury her face against the woman's stomach and just sob and cry and take comfort in the strong arms that she just knew would wrap around her.

"Calanthe," she said quietly, raising those golden eyes up to meet Daphne's blue ones. "I'm Calanthe."

"A lovely name," Daphne said matter-of-factly, setting the needles down on the concrete stairs she sat on with a gentle 'clack'. She'd never been this close to the girl and despite the child's bedraggled appearance and lack of cleanliness she could pick up the faintest whiff of ... paradise? Coconut? That was the strangest thing, now, wasn't it. "Come and pick up your lunch," she said, indicating with a careless gesture at the napkin that was tied neatly around what was undoubtedly a sandwich of some sort and perhaps some cookies and fruit. "You can sit here," Daphne continued, gesturing again at the bottom step of the stoop that Daphne herself sat on.

Calanthe bit her lower lip before skittishly moving closer. She grabbed up the lunch and did as Daphne suggested, seating herself on the very edge of the bottom step before shakily opening up the lunch. Ham, piled thick, topped with cheese and tucked between two nutty slices of bread. A chocolate chip cookie, and apple slices. Calanthe shoved one of those slices in her mouth before sending Daphne a grateful look.

"Now," Daphne said softly, picking up her needles again. "I suspect you do not have parents, Calanthe. I also suspect you do not have a home. I know that you might like it out here on your own, but I am going to offer you a place to stay. Here, with me, Calanthe." Daphne straightened her glasses before knitting once more. The rapid clacking of the needles was soothing to Calanthe for reasons unknown to the little girl, but she wasn't going to think about it too hard. She chewed thoughtfully and watched Daphne.

"I have an extra bedroom. It can be decorated in any way you please. I work as a nurse. I can cook, I can clean. You'd be well looked-after, Calanthe, but I will require reimbursement. Now," Daphne paused, counting the loops on the needed before she continued, "I need help with my garden. You've seen my roses. I love them dearly. You can help with that. Perhaps some help with dishes, maybe some cleaning. Nothing awful or strenuous, but while I have responsibilities at work and at home, you will need to have responsibilities, too."

Calanthe was quiet for a long moment. It didn't seem like Daphne was asking much of her. It was difficult for Calanthe to just say yes no matter how good Daphne's offer sounded. The offers always sounded good but then before you knew it she was on her own again, fending for herself. But this time instead of squashing the little faint glow of hope that thrummed in Calanthe's heart... the child let it grow. It had been so long since she'd allowed herself to feel this burgeoning shimmer of hope.

"Okay," she said softly, nibbling on the crust of her sandwich. "But.. you have to promise that ... you won't throw me away."

Daphne's brows rose as she glanced at Calanthe over the tops of her frames.

"Calanthe," she said quietly, setting the knitting needles in her lap, "I will never do that to you."

Well I'm still using Daphne's stationary. Mine hasn't come in the mail yet. That's okay, though. Daphne says it should be here soon.

Not much has been going on really. Daphne has been talking about getting a cat for us. I think that would be really awesome. I love cats. She says maybe this weekend we can go to the pound and pick one out. I hope it's not a sad place to be. I don't like sad places, but I guess on the upside we can bring home a cat that didn't have a home before, so that's good. I'm glad Daphne doesn't like dogs. I hate dogs.

I asked Daphne the other day why she doesn't have a boyfriend or a husband. She got this really weird look in her eyes before smiling and saying she hadn't found the right one yet. I hope she finds the right one. She's too nice to not have a husband that loves her. Sometimes she seems real sad and I think maybe having a boyfriend might cheer her up. Usually when she gets that sad look on her face she goes into the kitchen and bakes a million cookies. She keeps a few of them for me and then we go deliver them to the orphanage so that those kids can have a little treat. Most of them know her by name, which makes me wonder why she chose me instead of one of them...

We went to church the other day. That was weird. Everyone there was pretty nice but it was so boring and quiet there. Daphne kept staring at this one man that had a lady next to him, and sometimes he would stare back at her but I don't know who he is. Maybe I'll ask her after we go to church next time. She doesn't like to go every Sunday which is good because I'd rather be at home with the roses and the dirt. That reminds me, Daphne said that we need to get me some gardening gloves because the dirt gets under my nails and scratches my hands.

We painted my walls. They look like morning sunshine. I love it so much. It makes me wake up happy and go to sleep happy. I have matching curtains, too. The carpet is brown but I just pretend it's dirt and that makes me happy. I'm happy a lot. I trust Daphne. I don't think she'll ever throw me away or make me leave.

That makes me happy too.