Driving past the dark skinned, scaly man off of one of the exits on I-17 in Phoenix, I questioned his reason for having covered his stomach in paper-maché with what appeared to be bits and pieces of dirty circle-K napkins. As we turned south and the man became an ant in our rear view mirror, I spotted red patches of flesh on his back where parts of skin were missing, made more noticeable by the illuminating light that burned his back despite the chilly December air.

After consulting my mother over cheesy quesadillas, I reasoned that the paper-maché on his front was to cover other missing skin on his bony figure. The guilt of not having handed him any change ate me from the inside and caused me to isolate myself from other customers shuffling about the restaurant.

My mind traveled to these thoughts again as I handed a kid three squishy marshmallows to slide on to a thin stick. The creation was a snowman with M&M’s for eyes and Pretzels for arms. Perhaps it was the color of the pretzels or it’s daintiness that reminded me of the man but either way his misfortune was repainted into my mind.

It had been a few minutes since our school bus had halted in front of the Phoenix Community Gardens and mere moments since we first started helping the foster children with their Christmas crafts and holiday fun. Each of us volunteers had one child they would personally attend  to, whether it be with the marshmallow snowmen, the candy-cane reindeer, or the popsicle christmas trees.

6-year-old little Devin was busy pressing red and green M&M buttons onto the snowman’s front when the thought distracted me. When these children grow up, will they cover themselves with paper-maché as well? I couldn’t see them this way. Then again, the scaly man probably hadn’t seen himself resembling a reptile when he was Devin’s age either.

We moved on to the next activity and like a tick my thoughts traveled with me jumping from one table to the next. I noticed Devin struggling with the too big googly eyes and asked him if he wanted my help in pasting them to the smaller red and white striped peppermint candy.

“Yes. Thank you.”

I held the cane while he glued the eyes on and added a bright red nose as a finishing touch. We moved on to the next craft and like last time my thoughts followed. Devin’s gratuitous gratitude incited a second-hand melancholy I had previously not know my body to be capable of.

In my time of need I could seek my family. Who does Devin seek out for? Who does the scaly man seek in his time of need? These thoughts made me uncomfortable causing me to unknowingly distance myself from Devin, a fact that I’m ashamed of still today. I looked towards the other volunteers, each absorbed with their jobs: To look after the kids. To be there when needed. To be someone they could talk to. Maybe they weren’t a fixture in the kids’ lives, but they were there so the kids could reach out to them.

Happiness bubbled inside me once more and with it came the realization that being with those kids is what they needed. Sure that wasn’t the only necessity they had yet it was a precious memory those kids could keep forever and remember when they needed to. They needed us to be there to help them forget their problems for a while. To have fun.

We moved on to our next activity. Unlike before, my thoughts stayed behind.