A Girl Who Has No Mother

 It was Christmas. I was teaching in a small town where my twenty-seven third graders eagerly anticipated the great day of gifts giving. Every child was cheering and exiting except a little girl who was sitting in the seat quietly. I hoped the festivities would appeal to her. But nothing did. The day of gift-giving finally came. We cheered over our handiwork as the presents were exchanged. Through it all, she sat quietly watching. I had made a special pouch for her, red and green with white lace. I wanted very much to see her smile. She opened the package so slowly and carefully. I waited but she turned away. I had not penetrated the wall of isolation she had built around herself. After school, she came to me and gave me a box. I opened it and saw a piece of watch replica. A band of Omega was drawn on the watch. I know it was given to her mother who was dead three years ago. “What a piece of pretty replica Omega watch!” said I. She smiled and hugged me.