Kevin and Billy are brothers. I met them in Les Irois about three weeks ago. Kevin is around 10 and Billy is probably about 5. I am sure I asked them though I can’t recall.
Somewhere along the way Kevin found me; or it could have been that I found him. I don’t exactly remember how it happened or when it happened. But it happened. And that's the important thing. And then his brother Billy found me. After that, we were three.
During the Children’s 
Program, the kids made picture frames. The team brought in foam frames and foam stickers to decorate them with. On his frame, Kevin spelled both of our names. A (semi) forever reminder of our friendship (at least until the sticky wears off and the glue comes unstuck…but its the thought that counts).
The last morning just before we leave we always gather in a large circle, intermingling Haitians and Americans, and we hold hands and pray together. This is usually everyone’s least favorite part; saying good-bye. Although I’ve done it many times now, it is still hard for me as well. As we stood in a giant circle, clinging to one another one last time Kevin and I had found each other but Billy was no where to be seen. I had resigned that Billy was probably off with his mother working in the kitchen. She had been one of the ladies who had helped prepare our meals for the week. Or maybe he was still asleep at home; after all it was just after 6am. I wouldn’t have gotten up if they hadn’t made me. Pastor Jean was commencing the good-bye time when I felt something touch my head. We were standing just in front of the bushes that surrounded the building and when I turned my head around, there was Billy, tucked timidly between the house and the plants. I motioned him into the circle and he took my hand. Once again, Kevin and Billy had found me. And so there we stood, hand in hand, the three of us together one last time.
Moments like that are undoubtedly bitter sweet. Saying good-bye is always hard. But there’s something special about moments like that, too. There's something about being chosen; about being loved; about choosing and loving. They’re the kind of moments wish you could keep in a box and pull out to brighten things up when they weren’t so cheerful.
You can’t pay for that kind of sunshine.
