Just when I thought it was all over and I buried my head in my hands, I heard a familiar voice: “Excuse me, can I say something?”
It was Amelia, standing shyly but firmly at the witness stand. Her small voice filled the quiet courtroom. The judge nodded, looking a bit curious.
“I know I’m just a little girl,” Amelia started, looking around the room before focusing on the judge, “but I know who loves me. I know who takes care of me.” She took a deep breath and fidgeted with the mic. “My daddy,” she said, pointing at me, “makes my breakfast, helps with my homework, and chases away the monsters at night.”
The room was quiet, listening to every word this brave little girl said. “My mommy,” Amelia went on, her voice shaking, “wasn’t there when I needed her. She didn’t come to my school plays because she was busy. She doesn’t know my favorite color or what I want to be when I grow up.”