Today, I went to a nearby playground park with grandchildren for a change. I was busy playing with the children when, at some point, I noticed an unfamiliar child looking up at me and smiling. The child was wearing shabby clothes, had unkempt hair, and cheeks sunburned from the sun. But that smile was so beautiful—like a gem hidden in the mud, something that children with nice clothes, well-groomed hair, and sun-kissed cheeks could never possess. So, despite my own worn-out smile, I smiled back at the child as a gesture of gratitude. Then the child began to follow us and play together. Especially the sight of the child struggling to lift my second son, Samuel, and trying to place him on a horse saddle or staircase is indescribable in words. Then we saw the child’s back as he returned to his parents. Soon after, someone called out “Iren,” so I think the child’s name was Iren. Iren came over with a cookie in her hand, placed it in Samuel’s hand, and then returned to parents. I didn’t look at the parents. I thought they might be crying somewhere in the playground. So I called Iren over and gave her two oranges and yogurt, gesturing for her to eat them. She enjoyed the first few bites and then took them back to her parents. This time too, I didn’t watch Iren go back to them until the end. Before long, darkness fell, and we began to take the children home.