Thursday, July 24, 2008
The little boy sat in the living room, quiet and in solitude, waiting patiently for his mother to return home from work. He waited for many hours, but made sure not to, “screw around,” or, “be stupid,” his mother’s words verbatim. Sitting with his hands resting on his lap, his tiny feet strapped into his Velcro shoes crossed and dangling from the leather sofa, he realized that his mother was running late. He remained seated and worry-free until the telephone wailed in the kitchen. The little boy’s mother told the boy not to pick up the phone, but the caller ID read, ‘Wilson, John,’ the boy’s father, and he was excited to speak to him for the first time in months. But after a few moments the little boy’s big brown eyes glazed over in fear and confusion as his father gave him the disturbing news.