I Am Interesting and Musical - I Am A Vulnerable Child

They're a fairly new family on the street. Three years' new. What is called in the new family parlance a "blended family". The second marriages for both adults. He, although very young in appearance and certainly physically fit, is the father of three semi-adult children, a teen-age girl and two young men of university age. She, one of those people whose age could confuse even the guess-gifted, a mother of four; a 14-year-old boy, and three girls, ages 10, 8 and 6. Lovely children all, reflective of their parents.

They moved from Nova Scotia. Their extended family is left behind, in the Halifax area. The children, no doubt, miss their grandparents, their aunts and uncles. They also miss their father. He's a Colombian by birth. Their mother, a native Nova Scotian, is involved in the work of international benevolence; she is employed by an NGO, doing work in Latin America, where she likely met her husband and sponsored him for emigration to Canada. Four years ago they parted. He still lives in Halifax.

While they were still living in that city, before and after she met her new husband, the children's father was completely estranged, by choice. The children are obvious physical specimens of mixed heritage, tawny-dark complected, black curly hair, not-quite Caucasian features. Exquisitely beautiful children. But more than that, good mannered, cheerful, friendly and sweet-tempered. They move together, the little girls, as a tight little flock. And there is loving competition among them.

The children, including the brother, attempted, while living in the same city as their father who left the family home, to contact him repeatedly. There was never a response to their pleading appeals to him. They love their father, and they miss him. They appear very well adjusted on the surface, and there is no reason not to question the surface. Their step-father is obviously and sincerely engaged in raising them, along with their mother.

When the mother is away, as she often is for her job - for three-week periods some four times a year in Bolivia, Columbia, or Chile - the children pine for her, but are well looked after in every conceivable parental way by their stepfather. The mother has her children attend regular language classes in Spanish; she insists they know something of their complete heritage. They take piano lessons, and engage in extracurricular group sports.

Here is a poem that the mother of these extraordinary children gave me, written by one of her daughters, the eldest of the trio:

I am interesting and musical
I wonder if my dad still thinks about me
I hear a tree crying when it is being cut down
I see a baby bird trying to fly
I want to hug my dog Brooke one more time
I am interesting and musical

I pretend that everything is OK when it is not
I felt my sister's pain when she got a concussion
I touch my mom's head when I am scared
I worry that it's my fault when my mom cries
I cry when I get home and no one is there
I am interesting and musical

I understand why my mom and dad got divorced
I say you should always believe in yourself
I hope people stop abusing pets
I try to come home in time so my mom doesn't worry
I hope I will reach my goal
I am interesting and musical