Angel daughter

Yesterday my daughter arrived.
Full of zest fun and warmth.
The kid is gorgeous.
Where did she come from this tall, dark skinned beauty.

An old friend is with her. I pick them both up at the bus station.
We come home and cook dinner together. I am glad to have them here and to listen to there stories and watch them cuddle like puppies. They whisper and talk in short hand, the language of two.
He has lived in Kenya for the past three years with a women from Chicago, who moved there with him. They live in a remote village that takes many hours of travel by bus and ferry to reach. He fishes and works very hard providing food and shelter for himself and his partner, and for three children who live with them who have been orphaned by aids. He provides funds for schooling these children as well. He speaks of the many hours he works. He has built his own house, survived a poisonous snake bite sweating in the sun, and is building a center around aids education and awareness. Many boys come to Adam's house after school. They feel safe and welcome. Adam is 23 years old.

Ana loves Adam. They have been friends and grown together for so many years.
We talk of the sadness in Adam's eyes and our concern for him.
His eyes are milky. Looks like soul loss to me. I wonder about his heart.
Ana talks about loving him enough in the two months they are together in Maine, so he can remember his love. She says Mom, "Adam is a lover. This is what he does best. This is who he is. The women he lives with in Africa is wounded and does not love him well."

My daughter has learned to love to love. She does not love to possess or require undo commitment. I can learn from her. She is fearless in this regard.
She is 22 and alive.