Learning our colours

Tonight, Ky was telling me a cute story about a little girl who noticed that some people's skin is different colours. It reminded me of a story Mom and Dad told about when I was little.

I was a very friendly child. There was no one I wouldn't talk to. We lived in a small town and I was determined to be friends with the world. It was a different time than it is now, because I was about 4 or 5 and wandering the neighbourhood alone. While now, this would cause me panic attacks to see a child out alone (not to mention I would be forced to intervene!!), back then it was the norm.

I came home one day to announce to my parents that we had new neighbours living down the street. I said I liked them, but they had"green skin and spoke a funny language - I think English."

They were Vietnamese.