I remember telling you

about my childhood--about the quaint, old house I grew up in, about its resident turtle and trusty, ancient Queen, the dog, about the dear, kind people I spent my mornings and evenings with, the chirping birds and squawking hens I woke up to, the crickets I listened to as I drifted off to sweet, innocent sleep.

I remember the sad smile that turned up the corners of your mouth. Most of all, I remember your reply: the world is a cruel place and you're just a little, little girl in the middle of it. And I remember thinking, perhaps you're right. Indeed, there is much evil here, squalor in so many places, greed in some, leftover misery from the first miseries that were, so many lonely people trying to make their way in whatever way they can.

But I remember thinking, too, how there must have been something wrong with what you said. After all, you're here. After all, my dad, my brother and I just had a really nice time catching up with each others' lives a week ago. After all, my other brother just texted me his wish that I get well soon. After all, my mom just called me up several days ago to cheer me up. After all, colleagues are helping me take care of work matters. After all, friends have sent and are still sending get-well-soon messages. After all, you just made me a comforting cup of coffee. After all, the sky is finally dousing the dry earth with its rain. After all, I have a pink towel. After all, tomorrow is another day. After all, there is the gift of words. After all, I continue to dream of and hope for a better life. After all, I know you do, too.

The world can't be all that evil. 

It just isn't possible.