For the longest time they are faces in a photograph, hand written letters in a language you don’t read and some coloured parts on the page. There are the letters you write back, the photos you send and the extra money at Christmas so they can get new school supplies and clothes.you’re excited at first, even crying because you can now put a body to the picture, you can see how big they are for real. You get to see them smile, and you get to touch them. and then, the horror of it, you don’t recognize one of them! you shake your head, pull out the photo and only sort of see the resemblance. You start to realize a photo only says so much. I am so blessed. I get to travel and live with one of my “kids” for 11 months. I will know his hopes, his joys, his dreams, and his fears. I will be there the first time he sings on stage, the first time he tries ice cream and the time he gets to meet my family. I am excited to show him off.Then there is Annitha. Im met her Friday, April 3rd. I poked my head in her class and recognized her instantly. That’s when I started crying, and I had to turn away; she was in class. Later, I saw her with friends, and all I wanted to do was touch her, hug her; she didn’t recognize me. I wasn’t expecting her too. She doesn’t understand much English, and is quite shy, so I stood there awkwardly trying not to touch her too much as to freak her out. Do you know how beautiful she is? How tall she is, and how graceful she is? I realized I could never give her enough. I had brought some things for her, and then chastised myself for not bringing more. How do you a show a child how much you love them when you never see them? How do you let them know they are one of the most precious children you have ever had the privilege of meeting? How do you show them the world through letters and photos? And never get to see the awe and delight in their eyes when they see something for the first time, or understand something new. I am one of the fortunate one’s who has gotten to meet my kids. These are memories I don’t want to forget. I don’t want the kids to forget me; yes I can’t spend time with them, but I can be a part of their lives.