Were you born that color?

Children are amazing. Especially the young ones. Honest and without judgment, they say what's on their mind.  Not sure we're always ready to hear them, but if we take the time to listen we're bound to learn something new.


"Were you born that color?" Zalika asked me during one of our creative writing sessions last week.  
"What color?" I answered not sure where this was going.
"That color," she said, pointing at my face.
"You mean white?"
"Yes," she said.
"Yes, I was born white."
"Do you like being white?"
"Yeah, but I have to be careful when I'm in the sun, because my skin gets burned and I don't like it when it gets red."
"Do you like black people?"  Zalika asked.
"Sure I do."
"Why?" she asked.
"I like all people," I answered in my 1960's way.
"I thought white people hated black people in America."
"Some do I guess, but it's a lot more complicated than that."
"You must love black people then?"
"Why?"
"Because you're living here with us."
"I"m living here with you, because I like you," I said, and threw my arm over her shoulder to bring her close to me.
She hugged back and the conversation moved on to other things, but the replay of what she said has been with me all week.


Today is Christmas and I want to wish you all a Merry Merry day surrounded by love and joy and family, music and laughter, but above all the replay of those little moments that touch the heart most of all.