Unicorn

She loves to hate. Regardless of the activity, the lesson, the humor, the workload, the assignment, the topic, the discussion, she screws up her face in a snarl and rolls her eyes.

Once, I thought I saw her smile, a lovely smile, but it was a fleeting vision, like those of unicorns.

Certain of its existence, I seek that legendary creature day after day. And although I know I can never grasp it, my heart yearns to glimpse it again.

O, Lord, show me how to coax a smile from this child. Can she really be so surly? Is her hard exterior merely a protective barrier behind which hides a tender spirit? Give me another vision of that sweet smile – if only the tiniest tip of the horn.