Scuffed a bit on the edges here and there
My sister dusted her skirt and folded it
A large carton sat in her room
In bold letters, it read, "Ready to wear!"
Ever so gently she pulled out a dress
White as snow, almost new, worn thrice
A tad too small, a smidge too little
She hugged it, but folded it all the same
The carton became heavier still
As tiny snowflakes condensed over her window
"Five more minutes, honey!" mother called
"Yes!" she shouted back, her tiny hands in a hurry
Father looked at her, then lifted the carton
"Are you sure?" he asked again
Her eyes found the little white dress
Peaking through a hole in the carton
But she nodded with sincerety,
So father nodded and loaded it in the car
"I wanna come, too" she cried, suddenly
"But…" Father sighed. "Fine," he said.
"You might not like what you see."
"I'll be fine," her resolute only grew
"Hop in," he said, and the car started
Only then did I notice, her eyes were red
"Were you crying?" I asked.
"No," she lied. "I'm so happy to do this."
I too just nodded. The car sped downtown.
"Put on your scarves, we're nearly there."
We did, and soon we were outside the orphanage
Swings and rusted see-saws greeted us
Winter filling the air with bitter frost
Our boots stamped the fresh snow cover
We unloaded our cartons, but they were still unseen
"Uhhm, hello?" My father tried
A window to our right opened slightly
A lady looked at us.
"We're here to donate!" My father said firmly
Perhaps a bit too proudly
Her face brightened, and soon the window was shut and the doors were open
The lady tucked at her thin jacket
"Thank you, may lord give you blessings."
Her voice was rough but kind,
And my father responded with a nod
"We want to give it to them" he said
The eyes of the lady flickered to my sister
"I'm not sure…" she started.
"It's okay," my father reassured her
She looked at him for a moment
Nodding her head ever so slightly
"Fine," was all she said
We took the cartons and entered the orphanage
"Donations!" she called as soon as we were in
A moment of silence, followed by a stampede of tiny feet
And running they came, wearing tattered clothes
And broken shoes, and smiling faces
The cartons were snatched, torn apart
Clothes were being pulled and grabbed
My eyes found the face of my sister
And her eyes found dismay
She watched her treasured clothes
Rupture and tear and stretched away
She clutched my leg in fear
"Why?" she shouted, "why did they…"
Her tears ran down my jeans.
The white dress was torn and stamped
Dragged across the dirty muddy ground
The children ran back, up the soaked wooden stairs
And there was silence
The lady looked on, sadly
Father picked up my sister
We found ourselves back in the car
My sister curled up, bawling in my lap
"That is all they know, honey."
Father tried consoling her
"All their life they have snatched,
Stolen, robbed, everything."
Her sobs eventually stopped
"I understand," she said sadly
"I hope so, and if not today…"
Father paused.
"And if not today, I hope tomorrow."