There's not a whole lot of room in her apartment, but it doesn't bother her. It doesn't bother the girls, either, who don't mind sharing their toys and their beds with their friends. She has been taking care of them for nearly two years now, and still they surprise her with their generosity. They don't need much and give everything in return. Children are wonderful like that, she thinks, and hugs one of the girls a little tighter.
There are only five of them left. The others have been adopted, thanks to her and Tenenbaum's efforts. The old doctor comes and visits them every once in a while, bringing food and fruit juice for the kids. Eleanor has told her time and again that they have enough money to buy it themselves, but Tenenbaum seems determined to help out wherever and whenever she can----and for that, Eleanor is grateful.
"Mum?"
She has a feeling that they know she's not their mother, but that's what they see her as. She's always there for them. She dries their eyes when they're upset and encourages them to explore and get comfortable with the world around them. It's what mothers do----or what they should be doing, anyway.
"I drew you a pic-chuh."
Smiling gently, Eleanor kneels down next to the child. Julie's her name. She is the youngest and by far the shyest. Eleanor is the only person she'll talk to. She won't even talk to Tenenbaum, whom she has named "the Gray Lady."
"May I see it?"
Julie nods and stumbles forward, nearly tripping over her own legs. Then, with utmost care, she places a piece of paper in Eleanor's hand and takes a step backwards, folding her hands behind her back. There's a hint of pride in her dark, downturned eyes, and with reason.
"This is wonderful!"
There's no other way to describe the drawing, which depicts her and Julie, walking through a meadow full of daisies. The brightness of their smiles is matched only by the sun, which is a large, bright yellow dome against the horizon, stretching above them like a shield.
"I'm going to hang this in the sitting room."
Taking care of five young girls all on your own is incredibly difficult, but when Julie beams at her and practically leaps into her arms, she is, once again, reminded why she does it. All the tears, all the hardships, all the sleepless nights... It's worth it.
I tried! Hope you like it, OP!
There are only five of them left. The others have been adopted, thanks to her and Tenenbaum's efforts. The old doctor comes and visits them every once in a while, bringing food and fruit juice for the kids. Eleanor has told her time and again that they have enough money to buy it themselves, but Tenenbaum seems determined to help out wherever and whenever she can----and for that, Eleanor is grateful.
"Mum?"
She has a feeling that they know she's not their mother, but that's what they see her as. She's always there for them. She dries their eyes when they're upset and encourages them to explore and get comfortable with the world around them. It's what mothers do----or what they should be doing, anyway.
"I drew you a pic-chuh."
Smiling gently, Eleanor kneels down next to the child. Julie's her name. She is the youngest and by far the shyest. Eleanor is the only person she'll talk to. She won't even talk to Tenenbaum, whom she has named "the Gray Lady."
"May I see it?"
Julie nods and stumbles forward, nearly tripping over her own legs. Then, with utmost care, she places a piece of paper in Eleanor's hand and takes a step backwards, folding her hands behind her back. There's a hint of pride in her dark, downturned eyes, and with reason.
"This is wonderful!"
There's no other way to describe the drawing, which depicts her and Julie, walking through a meadow full of daisies. The brightness of their smiles is matched only by the sun, which is a large, bright yellow dome against the horizon, stretching above them like a shield.
"I'm going to hang this in the sitting room."
Taking care of five young girls all on your own is incredibly difficult, but when Julie beams at her and practically leaps into her arms, she is, once again, reminded why she does it. All the tears, all the hardships, all the sleepless nights... It's worth it.
It's all worth it.