She danced.

Her dress billowed, circling her like a flower’s petals as she spun in the sun.  She laughed and sang, then broke into giggles of pure joy.

Suddenly stopping, she turned to me.  Her gorgeous dark eyes with the long, curling lashes became moist with sorrow as she began to walk away in her proud and independent way that almost hides the struggle.

“Good-bye, Ann.  I love and miss you, Ann,” she called over her shoulder as she reached the sidewalk.  She turned and sadly waved one last time, then lifted her right arm high and in a firm, clear voice, called “TAXI!  TAXI!”

I ran to the sidewalk and scooped her up and she became a rag doll, overcome with giggles.

This was Rusul, the drama queen, the child of joy and laughter, yesterday in front of her temporary new home at the Ronald McDonald House.  Play-acting, having fun, being silly.  Being a child.

In the week since I met the flight in New York that carried Cole, Nora, Rusul and their two fathers on their long flight from Jordan, I’ve become attached to Salee’s little sister.  She’s fun and funny; she’s kind with an ever-present smile; she’s beautiful, sweet, and smart.

She’s, as Cole would remind us, the “human face of collateral damage.”

Something we should never forget.