Sunday, March 15, 2009

Lucky Boy

He's three years old. He has long black kinky hair tied in a ponytail. He looks more like a she than a he except that he's wearing jeans with a brown leather belt, brown shoes, and a plaid shirt. He's with his foster mother who turns out is his aunt. He calls her mommy. She has permanent custody of him. His biological mother was using crack while she was pregnant with him and he was rescued from the crack house when he was a baby.

His foster mother was very heavy set and looked older than her 36 years with a mottled dark complexion. She wore a purple printed bandana tightly on her head to cover her hair. Her fingernails  were long and they didn't look like her real nails but she said they were. They had the most intricate design which was perfectly applied. Her toenails matched her fingernails. She told me it only took a few minutes for someone to paint them. 

I ask him about his friends and about his favorite foods but he's acting like a tired three year old, putting his hands on the computer followed by falling on the floor. I realize I'm waiting for her yell at him and threaten him as I've seen too many times with other patients. Instead, she picks him up from the floor and puts him on her lap and as he squirms away, she laughs. She tells me how smart he is and how happy she is that they live together.  

1 comment:

Premium T. said...

This is a beautiful post, and is a counter-balance to all the sadness you encounter on a daily basis.