constant

In the first quiet moment of a new shift this morning, I noticed a small photo sitting on the computer in front of me. Without thinking, I picked up the slip of paper and half-turned to offer it to the girl I was so sure would be standing just behind my chair, waiting for her first job of the day.

Instead, my hand hung in the air for just a moment, unsure, until I remembered that Aissa wasn't on the ward anymore. She wasn't going to be hanging all over me while I tried to do my work, wasn't going to provide me endless moments of amusement by parroting back the words we teach her, wasn't going to be looking up to me, bright-eyed, to exclaim in wonder over her latest artwork creation. She's better now, and so she's not in the hospital anymore.

This morning, that victory felt a little bittersweet. I realize how quickly I grow accustomed to any constant in this place that is defined by change. Aissa has been our constant for over a month, and things felt out of place without her today.

Until I handed a new sheet of stickers to another little girl, who grabbed them from my hand and then grabbed my arm to make sure I was listening while she shouted with her newly reconstructed lip.

I love you!

And so it goes. Aissa leaves us, only to be replaced by Tani. Each one that goes will have another in their bed before nightfall and we will start all over again. Teaching, soothing, playing, laughing, crying, dancing.

Loving.

These are our constants.