A Little Tenderness

I’m in Starbucks crying, the happiness I promised myself nowhere to be found.

While huddled in a corner wrapped in layers of wool, wondering if spring will ever come again, a baby in the tiniest red hoodie, toddles over to hand me a napkin.

He looks at me like an angel on duty, eyes big and round.

When I look to his mom, she shrugs and says, “I had nothing to do with it. He’s very sensitive, and has been, even when I carried him. He never kicked, came into being easily, like he did it all before. His dad calls him, our little, old soul.”

All this time he’s standing by me, eyes big and round, waiting for me to trade my tears for hope, or at the very least, a smile. 

SB