She makes the quiet statement about a boy who has been spending his days in our yard. "I don't like him."
It's obvious she's been thinking about what she just said. She's visibly upset, her eyes fill with tears as she finishes her thought, "He said he didn't want to play with me. I have this skin. Brown skin. He doesn't like brown skin."
She's pointing to her arm with disgust. The emotion I see is so strong and terrifying that I hug her tightly and start sobbing with her. I have no words that can undo the hurt she feels.
On the kitchen floor.
Cradling our six year old in my lap.
Both of us crying.
I can't believe our daughter met prejudice for the first time swinging on her swing set.