So this man I met he tells me he used to be "on the gear", and shares a tale about my daughter and her mother.

She found him one night while I was away and told him to pay her a visit sometime. I always admired the way she could spot them, the ones that were looking for something but were too afraid to ask, too frightened to speak their needs.

And he told me about this night he dropped in and how she talked about me working away in the mines. He didn't tell me as-much but I remember how the distance left her feeling numb; how it was putting a terminal strain on our relationship. He said they talked a lot and that it left him feeling better about himself. And then he gave me a lump in my throat when he said; that as he was leaving my daughter looked up at him (she's maybe 18 months old at this time) and said; I love you.

I imagine her untainted soul recognising his pain and the pure instinct that brought forth these words.

He told me all this with mild remorse, like he felt guilty for sharing a moment with the family I was unable to. But I am deeply touched. Moved by his sincerity and proud of my daughter's mother for showing some love. I'm also caught in a moment of God's manifestation by the pureness of my daughter's heart; the innocent love which many have lost in a world that defines love as having conditions.

He continued to apologise and I continued to reassure him that he didn't need to. I wasn't there and he had shared a moment that would otherwise have been lost to me.

I thank him for being honest and for sharing the story and I'm reminded of the work I still need to do to recover my own innocence, my own ability to untangle myself from the expectations of an otherwise dysfunctional world.

I am touched, and I grow a little.