Dagmawi Demess
There are some people who can pirouette six times in a row without falling over.
There are some people who can recite every line of dialogue from the Harry Potter movies from memory. There are some people who can ace every single calculus test without studying at all. As far as I know, my hero cannot do any of those things. But she can smile the biggest, brightest, most genuine smile I have ever seen.
I met her six summers ago on a visit to Mother Teresa's Missionaries of Charity Orphanage in Ville Parle, Mumbai. An Indian nun wearing the simple blue-edged, white sari of Mother Teresa led me into a room with more cribs - and toddlers - in one place than I had ever seen in my life. I wandered through the babbling mass of children and saw sights that remain in my memory to this day. I saw a 3 year old child reach out mesmerized, toward the shiny strap of my dad's wristwatch. I saw a little kid on the ground strapped into a child's car-seat, rocking itself to sleep. I saw two siblings sleeping peacefully, the older one's arm wrapped protectively around the other. And I saw a girl. She was standing up in her crib with one hand placed cautiously on the rail for support and the other fingering the pink heart embroidered on her bright orange corduroy skirt. As I drew closer, she reached out to me, her small hand groping in the air between us. I stretched out to her and she wrapped her tiny, little hand around my pointer finger and watched me. Her deep, inquisitive chocolate brown eyes searched mine. I gave her a small, tentative smile and she responded with the most breathtakingly beautiful smile I have ever had the good fortune to witness. But it wasn't beautiful because she had flawless teeth or the perfect shade of lipstick. What made it beautiful was the sincerity with which it was created. Her smile made me want to stay with her forever. It made me want to abandon my common sense and absorb her innocent view of the world, a view