We have friends.
They are gracious and loving, never overstaying their welcome.
Some are unsure of their welcome, though.
We do what we can to let them know our joy at their presence, our happiness at their arrival.
But their history with others…flavors their relationship with us.
We don’t blame them. If enough Italians hurt you, you become wary of Italians. If enough Londoners hurt you, you become wary of Londoners. Doesn’t really matter if it’s Chinese, Germans, Jews, Muslims, Christians, Aboriginals, doctors, lawyers, teachers, butchers, bakers, candlestick makers, …
So The Foxen are wary of us.
We give them time.
A chance to learn our voices, our scents, our ways.
We endeavor to be to them as we wish them to be to us; giving, sharing, caring, loving.
Slowly, they learn that we, at least, are not like others who look like us.
Wish all things could be that way.