Samantha

The day started with a tentative tapping on the door.

The combination of concrete walls and a flimsy plywood door made sure that I never missed anything that was going on outside of my room.  This was normally okay with me since the orphanage was dreadfully understaffed and it was up to me to keep the kids in check after 9 as the only adult that stayed the night.  The tapping came again, just a tad louder as if the knocker was anxious but still embarrassed for having to bother me.

"I'm up, I'm up. One second." I yelled in the direction of the door.  I blinked the sleep from my eyes and swung my legs out of bed, shocked awake by the chilly concrete floor.  It seemed that however hot it was outside, being just a couple of feet underground kept my room at a constantly cool temperature.  I threw on a shirt and pulled on some jeans then finally checked my dreads in the mirror over the sink.  At least now I looked like i'd been out of bed for 10 minutes instead of the 3 that had actually passed.  Opening the door, I was surprised to find that the knocker was not in fact Annie, the mom that stopped by every morning to fix the kids breakfast, but the little girl that had arrived just yesterday- Samantha.  Knowing that my height sometimes frightened the younger children at first, I lowered myself into a squat so that I was almost at Samantha's eye level.
"Good morning Sam, did you sleep okay?"
She nodded her head timidly.
"Why did you need me?"
She spoke a single word in a whisper- "bathroom."

At that moment I realized that in the rush to move Samantha in last night, I didn't get to give her the tour of the orphanage.  I had been the only adult here when she arrived and the social worker was eager to get the paperwork filled out and to go home.  Forgetting that most of the other girls were already asleep, I led her to the girls' mass bedroom and assumed that they could help her find her way around for the night.  I had forgotten another crucial detail though- the social worker had said that Samantha was dangerously shy.  I should probably be relieved that she even had the courage to knock on my door.  Most likely, the other girls weren't even out of bed seeing as my watch read 5:26 AM.

And so, resigning to the fact that I had missed a couple hours of much needed shut-eye, I smiled at Samantha and led her to the girls' bathroom.  She still looked tired so I made sure that she could find her way back to bed then set off to start preparing breakfast.

My day flashed by in a succession of sensations after the volunteers started to show up.  Sore knuckles from knocking on doors to wake up the kids...the loud endless chattering punctuated by shouts of laughter as the kids frolicked in the yard...the odd scent outside that I attributed to the medley of candles the neighboring convent burned...and the constant tugging of one kid after another on my jeans for attention.  I didn't have time to think about Samantha until the dishes from dinner were cleaned and I'd signed the last of the volunteer hour confirmation slips that always accompanied a group of high-school aged volunteers.  Judging from their athletic builds and gym bags, I assumed that this group of kids were all in some sort of sports group.  A girl that I recognized from previous volunteer session stayed late to help me finish tidying everything up.  It seemed that for every toy that I put back, two more would end up on the floor the next day.  While we cleaned, this girl chattered at me non-stop.  All I caught was something about a birthday, swimming, and the post office.  I was too tired to really pay much attention and when she finally left around 8, I collapsed into the nearest chair.

It took me a couple minutes to realize that instead of being in the other room watching Mulan with the other kids, Samantha had been quietly drawing in the corner of the room.  Slowly, so as not to disturb her concentration, I moved to a beanbag chair closer to where she knelt on the carpet.  Peeking over, I almost laughed out loud at the image on the paper.  Samantha had drawn me in my full on, disheveled, straight-out-of-bed glory.  She quickly noticed the huge black guy trying in vain to blend into the neon yellow beanbag next to her and after carefully drawing the blazing hot sun that everyone had been trying to avoid for the last week, thrust the portrait towards me.  I smiled and accepted the portrait after appraising all the carefully placed crayon strokes. I watched her join the other kids as mulan and a talking dragon exchange witty remarks on the screen.

I tape the picture onto my mirror after getting all the kids into bed and fall backwards onto my own bed.  I realize at that moment that I still haven't given Samantha that tour.  Well..there's always tomorrow.