Here's the story of a little boy who spent hours resting in a window looking out dreaming blankly; seeing. A boy who spent minutes tracing the indentions left on his arm from the sill. A boy who spent hours in a mirror singing to himself. Who created poems about crickets. Who showered for hours just to have alone time. A story of a little boy obsessed with smelling pretty because he wanted to be like his mommy. A little boy who labored hours upon hours to be good in sports to keep his daddy smiling. A little boy who lied so his sister never got punished. A trusting one who ate mudpies at her request. A small one that could sit for hours beside his grandma and not say anything just stealing glances as she looked away, never talking really-listening, laughing, and learning and staring. A little boy who pinned clotheshangers to his shirt so as his mother did the laundry he could be her very special helper. A boy who peered around corners and cupped his ears to hear what the adults were saying and what kind of music his dad was listening to-he later would remember that music and listen carefully to remember his dad's smell when he was no longer around. This is a slight story about a boy who remembered thinking he could kiss the clouds whenever the swing went high enough. A little lad who, to this day, can feel his grandmothers fingertips on the small on his back. Who could close his eyes and still hear her singing- a sound that he would miss more than anything in this whole world. A child who laughed at everything and rarely cried at anything. A kid who played football by himself for hours, who probably to the masses looked like he was bat shit crazy. A boy who started every morning with a song in his heart and ended every evening with a lullaby on his lips. This is a story of an alone child. A kid who lived, laughed, sang, danced and dreamed-alone. Surrounded by others he was physically never left, yet his heart always felt such solitude. A blessing and a curse. The gift to entertain himself and the need to constantly be surrounded was his downfall.
He later decided that misfortune would not be his. He took his freedom and chased a dream and stared at stars and kissed the heavens at yellow lights and always smiled. Sometimes sorry weighed heavy behind his brown eyes. But who has time for that he thought, so he continued to smile. He continued to hurt, but most importantly, he'd smile. He grew tired. One night a star told him everything was gonna be alright as it twinkled above his first apartment during a time when the sorry was winning the battle in his eyes. A tear clouded his eye and cleansed his soul and he took a breath and heard a song and smelled comfort and rested patiently.