The difference of an adult in a child’s life can make all the difference to the child, translated…
There had been, a long period of time, that when I’d worked in my yard, I’d often seen a boy, wandering around and about, at the park by the back of my house. As I’d mentioned him to my wife, she’d told me, that he was a child she was working with in school, Yo.
That day, I’d called out to him, “What’s your name?”, Yo looked at me through a slanted gaze, without answering. “Where’s your dad?”, I’d continued, “Dead!”, with a tone of rebellion, as I was about to continue my inquiries, he’d started, “Why are you, so nosy?”, then, he’d, left me, dumbfounded, behind.
picture from the papers…
I’d not like how he’d looked at me through a slanted gaze, I’d once asked him, “Looking at someone like you do, aren’t you afraid of, getting beaten up?”, but he’d still, kept his silence, and replied with his gazes. After I’d had a deep conversation with my wife, I’d learned, that this child had, a heart-wrenching past, and it’d, melted my prejudice toward him too. In the end, my wife and I decided to take him to church every Sunday, to children’s Sunday School, so he could get socialized with his peers.
After the very first class session, I’d asked him if he’d had fun? He’d told me, that there were, a bunch of spoiled brats in his class, I’d laughed and stated, that he was, one of them too. He’d become, high and mighty, told me, “I’m totally NOT like them!”, followed by, “I’ll come again next week if you want me to.”, and just like so, every week, he’d come ring my doorbell an hour early, and, his excitement of having someone to play with was beyond words.
Slowly, on our drives to and from the church, we’d started, chatting, instead of me asking the questions and him answering, there were, more laughter too, and, he’d stopped, looking at me, through a slanted gaze either. I’d told him, I was just like him, didn’t have my father when I was growing up. Recently, as I’d picked him up on my motorcycle, Yo’s hands that were originally on my shoulders, slowly, moved their ways down, to onto my waist, he said, “When my father rode me out, I’d held onto him like this.”
Once as I’d gone out with my coworkers to a buffet, I’d brought Yo along too, thinking, that he could pick out whatever he’d wanted to eat; as we’re halfway finished eating, he’d told me he was going to the bathrooms to throw up, later on, I’d learned, that he’d never had a chance, to eat so many delicious things, and that it might have been how quickly he’d, gulfed everything down, what he’d eaten was probably, comparable to what someone in an eating contest swallowed down. Even afterwards, as he’d gotten out of the restroom, with tears out of the corner of his eyes, he’d still told me, “it was, yummy, thanks!”, I’d patted his head, felt bad for him.
That morning, he’d rung my doorbell, told me, that there was a tae-kwon-do competition that night, wanted to know if we can make it? In the afternoon, he’d dropped by again, hoped that we’d not forgotten about the time to show up. As my wife and I arrived, we saw, that every kid had her/his parents, and realized, why he’d wanted us to be there. As it was Yo’s turn to compete, I’d found, that he’d not have the helmets, even his protective gears were, worn out too, but he’d still fought hard, against his opponent, wanted, to show his best to us. Although, at the very end, Yo lost, by a smidge, he’d walked, silently to the water fountains to get a drink, with an unsettled heart, he’d taken peeks at me; I’d walked toward him, patted him on the shoulders, told him, “You kicked really high, you were, amazing!”, he’d silently, turned away from me, as if, he was, trying to hide the tears in his eyes so I won’t see them.
On the way home, I seemed to understand, what else I can, do for him; I’d hoped, that in Yo’s young life, with me, by his side, at least, he won’t be, so alone or lonely anymore.
This, is the amazing story, of how a man, changed a boy’s life, simply by, being present, and, that also just shows, how much the children needed the accompaniment of the parents when they were growing up, they’d needed, role models, but, how many of you, parents can really say, that you were, there for your kids, when they were growing up???