Sitting on the front stoop of the first house I own, just a-starin’ out at our new street, on the first day I move in. A five-year-old boy comes walking down the street alone. Where’s his mom or dad?
He walks right up my front walkway, up my front stairs, plops himself down on the stoop right next to me, and puts his hand up on my knee. Friendly-like.
“My name is Sean”, he says. “I’m five.” Then he just sits there, staring, just like I’ve been doing. But he adds a great big sigh. Way too big for his five-year-old boy’s body.
“It sounds like something’s wrong.” I say.
“It is.” says Sean. “We’re movin’ away today.”
I’ve fallen instantly in love with this small blond boy who trusts a total stranger. I’m sad too, now, to hear I’m to lose him already.
“All my friends are here,” Sean laments. “I won’t know anybody where we’re goin’.”
“Yes. That’s true.”, I say. “It will sure be hard leaving all your friends behind.”
We sit a little bit longer.
“Did you know any of your friends when you first moved here?”
“What d’you mean?”
“Well, when you moved to this street, did you know any of these kids here?”
“And now they’re your friends, right?”
“So, maybe the same thing will happen at your new house.”
I stay quiet, letting him think about that.
“Yeeahh…you could be right.”
A little more think time. Then I ask:
“Do you want a cookie? I just baked some.” (Happy day!!)
We sit and eat some cookies.
“Well, I’d better go back home now.”
(Noooo! So soon?)
“Okay. It was nice meeting you. Good luck in your new place.”
Sean was the first neighbor I met on my new street, and the first one to leave.
Two years later, I gave birth to my first son.
Anyone want to guess his name?
A certain son is referred to by Justin in other posts on this blog. Just roll with it.
My comments on Grandmalin’s Just Jazzy post may or may not be pertinent.