Florentina

I met Florentina two years ago. I sat her on my knee and she immediately threw her head back and hit me square in the mouth. While I was still seeing stars from that she leaned forward and bit me so hard on the leg she broke the skin through my Levis.

She was a terror: breaking things, peeling decorations off the walls, stripping the leaves off plants they had put in the room to brighten things up, and being completely outrageous at the table. They would restrain her by having one of the retarded teenagers hold her tightly—often for very long periods. She absolutely hated that; it was the one thing that made her cry.

I took her as one of my children a year ago, largely to give the workers an hour of relief. Plus she loved me. But our hours together were ridiculous. She would tear up the playroom, kick and scratch me... and then we’d go back to her room.

A couple months ago I tired of this misery and started being firm with her to get her under control. Over time she calmed down a bit and we started having fun, but the one thing she would never let me do was let me hug her. I could carry her in my arms but I couldn’t hug her and she wouldn’t hug me.

Two weeks ago we were outside and I was holding her in my arms because it had been raining. She was getting anxious so I thought I’d twirl around to play with her a bit. She freaked. She screamed and started punching me in the head with her little fist. I stopped and she frantically grabbed me by the neck and held on so tightly I had to pull apart her arms to breathe. But she stayed clinging on to me, and it crossed my mind that this was the first time she had ever hugged me. So I hugged her back. Apparently she was more afraid of spinning around than being hugged, so she let me.

After she let go I spun around slowly until she hugged my neck again. And I did that a couple more times until she got accustomed to me hugging her.

Last week we were in the playroom sitting on the floor and I put her on my lap to see if she would let me hug her. She did, so I moved one hand up to the side of her face and pulled her head against my chest. When that worked I put my face down so my forehead rested on hers. She started sucking her thumb.

This was the first time I had enjoyed a moment of quiet snuggling with Florence. We sat like that for about 15 minutes, until I got tired of it. I lifted my head to change positions and her little arm came up and pulled my head back down. Amused, I removed the hand that was on the side of her face. A little hand appeared to put it back. So we sat there, enjoying the intimacy. Really, really charming.

So that’s Florentina: A seven-year-old wild-child that can’t talk and has finally let me hug her after two years.

Last week a child died. There were some unfortunate remarks about her, that got me thinking about all this. I don’t want Florentina to ever die.