She sits in the back of the once-functioning movie theater, now a makeshift classroom for unfortunate kids, eagerly awaiting my arrival. She knows I am coming, for she can, somehow, feel my presence. A tingling feeling creeps up her little, fragile arms, around her neck, and through her heart. You won’t be able to see it in her eyes, but I can. You won’t be able to hear it in her voice, but I can. You won’t be able to feel it radiate from her small heart, but I can. It is an absence of friendship and a lack of love that create black holes in the heart of young India.

Recently, I started taking trips to the Boys and Girls Club every Thursday to work with young kids who are less fortunate than myself. As soon as my eyes adjusted to the dingy old room, I see her. She quietly sits at a table in the back, her skinny legs crossed under her malnourished body, a pencil frozen in her hand’s weak grasp. India’s dark brown eyes lock with mine, connecting our minds. And it was in this moment, this brief second of time, when I realize her eyes are missing… something. She holds my gaze with this pleading look, magically pulling me toward the table where she sits. Before she looks away, I see a fire ignite in her eyes, burning a hole through her soul, resulting in dark emptiness that pierces her pupils-- darker than her jet black braids and her dark brown irises. And I swear her heart was pounding right out of her shirt-- big and empty, just like those beautiful brown eyes of hers.

Since I have only interacted with India twice, I hope to better understand her throughout our future visits. Together, we color pictures, complete crossword puzzles, solve math problems, and read books to form a special bond between the two of us. Friendship is blossoming from her slowly-warming heart, thriving as it latches on to my own grateful heart. I do not want to acknowledge the times when she feels lonely (which is usually when I am not by her side, according to her teachers), for I already know her small heart is scarred with an absence of friendship from her classmates. It is a bond that brings people’s minds and hearts together, an intangible gift more important than those that can be purchased. I want to provide her with friendship... my friendship.
Not only is she lacking friendship, but love, too. Although I’m sure her family loves her, India’s heart always seems empty; this motivates me to show her compassion. It is important for her to feel she has a purpose, like someone cares about her. I want her to experience the feeling of being loved, and possibly even loving someone. She should know I-- and many others-- hold a special place in my heart for her. Love, a strong emotion people feel toward others whom they care about, is far more meaningful than a gift that can be purchased. I want to provide her with love… my love.

As I make my way to the exit through the dingy classroom, I feel small hands wrap around my lower waist. I pivot on my heel, not to see who it is, but to hug her back. My eyes look down to find her intently staring back at me, India’s big brown eyes searching for something in my own. Her expression reads a sincere thank you and a pleading stay with me as her lips curve into a faint smile. A new fire ignites itself in her eyes, fueled by friendship and love this time, not loneliness or hatred. These two important traits glow brightly in her eyes, oblivious to pain or worry, more meaningful than anything money can ever buy. I cannot resist the stupid grin that spreads across my face when we exchange goodbyes, for I know she will, eventually, express friendship and love towards others. I know her classmates and teachers will show their friendship and love toward her. And I know I can provide her with friendship and love… my friendship and love.