BY VIVIAN COLOMBO

I walked the streets of the city when suddenly my gaze is resting on a joung mother who was holding in her arms her little baby born a few days.

A small infant with arms and legs that looked like the little bones of a skeleton.

My eyes rested on this baby and my legs have moved to try to do something to help. Do something to
allow his little heart to continue beating…the breath of life.

And so I approached and, with permission, I wrapped the infant with all my heart.

I wrapped the child to feel the beat of a life that was in danger of dying out. Such a slow breath, a stomach that needed food with a sick young mother sitting on a sidewalk.

A joung mother, with tears in her eyes, asked me to take care of her only son.

A joung mother asking me to restore life to her baby.

Suddenly, the woman began to have difficulty breathing, even her body was malnourished. The woman, with her latest small voice, whispered to me: the child’s father has abandoned just knew that I was pregnant, my parents are dead and I’m alone. Now my time has come. Take this my son in your arms, I give him to you, I give him to your mother’s heart. And with these words she left the earthly world.

I found this baby just a few days in my arms and tenderly and teary eyes I took him in my house, I fed, washed, dressed and allowed to sleep in a clean bed and warm.

His eyes so innocent, so unaware of what happened. His innocente eyes that could not understand the harshness of life.
A life that just her mother wanted to give back its entrusting him to my care before dying.

Now I felt responsible for that new life.

That little child needed help from me, he started to trust in me, he started to consider me like his mum.

But the memory of that woman, who offered me the life
of her son before to die, can’t leave me my mind and leave my heart.

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