Strange. . .
So, Emerson hasn’t asked me about my legs, but I’m not certain he has noticed yet. . .
Anyway, today we went into the city to meet with some local business owners. I honestly don’t know why I need to come along on such trips because when I tag along, all my husband does is chat all professional-like with the “business men” in our city. If I can escape, even for a moment, I’m playing with the children running around in the streets.
Those kids know so much more about how our city should be run than any of the adults do, but of course, I don’t say such things in public.
I was able to slip away after Emerson and the men got to talking about politics and such. I found one of the children of the men, who was lingering in the hallway. Together, we snuck out of the building and played in the alleyway to pass the time.
As we were playing an intense game of hopscotch, I noticed a small boy of ten or eleven search through the trash littering the streets. I then asked the little girl with me if she knew who the little boy was.
She did a curious thing.
She seemed as if she couldn’t tell me such information, but knew the answer.
After some probing, she finally told me that the little boy belonged to the streets. She pointed to the field backing up to the alley, explaining that he vanishes everyday in that field.
She said that he had no family, and that he’s been living in and out of homes since he was a baby.
Of course, I was intrigued about the little boy, but the little girl’s daddy came looking for us before I had a chance to watch the boy leave. I did notice that he was dirty from the dust that fills the streets, and that his clothes were becoming ragged from being worn for so long, but the boy, himself, didn’t appear to be starving.
And, my heart fell for the little boy. He reminded me of myself when I was his age, and he reminded me of how my baby brother didn’t get to grow to be ten.
So, I’m going to find this boy, and I’m going to help him. No child should have to grow up on the streets. . . I sympathize with this more than most.
I’ll speak to Emerson about this later, but first I have to find the boy again.
Stay tuned for my next post. . .