A shepherd for the nativity scene.
"I made it all by myself," she says. "Marta showed me how to mold the clay, but I did all the work. Do you like it?"
I kneel down so I’m at her level.
She holds the figure up for me to inspect.
The details are simple but careful. She put real effort into this.
"It's very good," I say, smiling proudly.
The swelling in my chest is so simple but so profound.
This little girl is my blood, and everything she will ever do every day of her life will be perfect to me.
"Can we add it to thepresepe?"
"Of course."
She takes my hand and pulls me toward the living area.
The nativity scene sits on a table near the Christmas tree.
Marta and Angelica have been helping Sofia build it over the past few days.
There are figures of Mary and Joseph and the animals, a small wooden stable, and hay scattered across the base.
Sofia places her shepherd carefully among the other figures and steps back to examine the arrangement with a critical eye.
"He needs to be closer to the baby Jesus," she says. "Because the shepherds were the first ones to see him."
I reach over and adjust the figure slightly. "How's that?" I ask, kneeling beside her.
"Perfect."
She beams at me and then wraps her arms around my neck.
The gesture catches me off guard.
She hugs me like I'm someone she trusts completely and feels safe with.
And I don't take the weight of it lightly.
It's a powerful thing to be trusted by a child.
I hug her back and close my eyes.
This is what I've been missing my entire life.
This is what my father never taught me to value.
Connection, love, the feeling of being needed by someone who depends on you for more than just food and a roof over their head.
When Sofia pulls back, she notices the soot on my clothes. "Why are you so dirty?"
"I had some work to do. I'll clean up in a minute."
"Okay," she announces before running back to the nativity scene to rearrange the figures again.
