I saw the little girl standing apart. There were several other children nearby, and most people would have thought she was with them, that she was a part of that group. In fact, the children believe she's with them, but I can see something in her eyes. She's alone no matter who she's with. I just can see that. She's standing on the edge. Does she want to be one of them? Not really. Is she brave enough to leave them? Not really. So she's stuck there. In between, alone. She's lonely, and looks sad to me, but she doesn't to the others, because she doesn't let them see it. She's so good at it that no will suspect she'd afraid or alone; just the opposite, they think she's one of them. How can she bear to be so alone? It used to hurt, so she's learned how to avoid that pain, she just fixes herself to feel nothing at all. I can see her now, and I can feel her loneliness and I can feel her fear. I go to her and hand her the red balloon. She just takes it from me. She looks at me for a moment and I can see that she knows. She knows I really see who she is. She knows it OK to show me her sadness. She quietly takes the red balloon. I want to tell her she's not ever alone, but I don't think I need to. I think she's known it all along, but that knowing also separates her from the others. She needs to be with the other believers, but she's too afraid to leave this in between place.

I watch her for awhile holding onto the balloon. It takes some time, but finally she looks over to me and waves. She takes a look back sadly at the other children and she takes her first steps away.