the little boy i’m still thinking about…

I got up at 2:30 am. Not the time I wanted to get up, but a malfunction in an alarm clock had me up, wide awake. Awake because I was to fly home that day to see my little ladies after being gone for four days. Anxious, nervous, tired, sick to my stomach due to a lack of sleep and the anxiety of flying. Alas, I finally got my things packed up in my hotel room, all crammed in to an over-sized suitcase. Packed on top of the suitcase was my over-sized carry on. Just small enough to be considered a carry on, but large enough to be utterly annoying when trying to travel quickly places.  Off we went to the airport, in a dingy, smelly cab that I’m sure was inhabited by some drunken folks having the fun that they would soon regret upon waking up.

Once we arrived to the airport, we gathered our things from the cab, shorted him on a tip, as I wasn’t functioning properly at that hour, and made our way to curb side check in. There we waited and crossed our fingers that our treasures contained in the bags we were about to give over to the United Airlines employee would safely find their way to our final destination. Upon walking through all the lines and safety checks, I noticed a dapper, young African American man walking with a young white boy, a child. The pair of them was peculiar, but I really didn’t think much of it as it was 4:00 am and I had about 4 hours of sleep total in the last 36 hours.

We continued to walk until we found the gate our gate. There was virtually no one near us. We took over a spot in a corner, proceeded to set all our things around us and then sprawl out on the ground, as if we hadn’t slept in weeks. It didn’t take but seconds and I was out, induced into a Xanax stupor. Oblivious to anything going on around me. Or so I thought…

Some time later I awoke as I heard my sister talking to a young boy. I listened for, who knows how long, and then was basically hit up side the head with a brick when I heard, “I was abused by my dad”. I was stunned. Shocked. Sad. I hadn’t ever heard those words come out of someone’s mouth, especially a child’s mouth.  I sat straight up to see what sweet child it was that my sister had struck up a conversation with. It was the young white boy that was walking with the dapper African American man I spoke of earlier. This child. This precious child…older than my oldest, yet the approximate maturity of my five year old. My heart wrenched for him. What happened. What had gone wrong in his home? Without being completely obvious, we continued in conversation while attempting to dig further into his situation. Both my sister and I secretly wiping tears from our eyes every now and then. His mom’s friend (dapper African American guy) was flying with him to Tennessee where he would be at “school”. I have no idea what sort of school he was talking about. Shortly after that, he mentioned that he was at another “school” in New Mexico. How many school has this sweet child gone to…away from his parents? Did he still have parents? What the hell was going on with him is what I was thinking.

The excitement in this child’s voice when he heard anything new about the plane we were to depart on, made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. He was just a baby. And what life this sweet child has already endured. What I wouldn’t give to just be able to wrap him up, and take him with us. Give him the life he deserves. Take his rolling luggage, luggage that was the size of a carry on but that fit all his belongings.  They didn’t check any bags that I was aware of. On top of his carry on was a “car seat” for his Build a Bear. His mom got him a build a bear and dressed him as a super hero. He told us all about that special Build a Bear. A bear that I’m sure is giving him strength to get through whatever life is throwing at him.  At least, I hope its giving him the strength he needs and deserves as this young age. Something to make him smile, amidst the crap. I’m sure his mom loves him, and was trying to send him a message. At least, that is what I hope. Being a mom, I can’t imagine not having my babies near me, at all time. Maybe sending him away was protecting him?

There he was, everything he had with him. And everything that I thought I wanted and needed all nicely placed in an over-sized suitcase, being stowed beneath a plane somewhere. Makes me question things….

I pray for this child. I pray his life gets better. I don’t know how it’s been, and I obviously don’t know how it will be from here. All I can do is hope, as I sit here with tears rolling down my face. Tears for this sweet child who I will never know. Tears of gratitude and thankfulness that I’m able to hold my babies knowing that I could never do and would never let this happen to them.

I wish I knew this boy. I wish I knew what was to come of him. I wish there was just SOMETHING I could do. Damn it.

“write it out.” read more ramblings a here.