“Kiddo, what are you doing here?” I asked.
This boy looked at me, scared; he was so small. “I’m lost; I don’t know where my mom is.”
I wondered if I had seen anyone lately after listening to the child. For some reason, I thought there must be a young couple there.
“What’s your name?” he asked. “I don’t remember anything or seeing your parents here,” he replied.
As he glanced at me piteously and lowered his eyes, the boy sat on the bench next to me.
I don’t know what to do. Please help me find my mother; my father is not himself without her.”
I was confused after hearing such words because I didn’t know how to help that boy. My first thought was that I would walk with him to look, but then I realized it wouldn’t help. Then I thought of reporting it to the police but decided it would not be wise. His parents would not be happy about him being placed with a foster family. Suddenly, I heard the roar of the brakes and looked around, but the boy had disappeared.
A few days had passed, but I still couldn’t forget that conversation; I decided to walk around the neighborhood to see if he was still there. During my walk, I met a neighbor who knows everything and sits on a bench all the time. I asked if she had ever seen a child or if he lived nearby with his family.
“Good afternoon, Ivan, but I didn’t see anybody,” said Mrs. Marjorie, “what happened?”?
A few days ago, I saw a boy here; he looked like someone.
There was a moment of silence for a moment.
I remember there used to be a family living nearby. The couple was good, and their son was named Michael. However, the woman left him, or something happened, and he has since moved. I don’t know where exactly, but maybe Mr. Vance knows; he lives across the street.
I walked over to the grandfather’s apartment across the street, but he didn’t know anything. According to him, the man had just taken the baby and left. After that, I stopped looking for the boy. Nevertheless, I saw him again after returning from work after a long time.
“Hello, are you back? Are you having any problems?”
“Mom … I’m looking for her,” he said.
In the end, I decided to take the boy myself, but I still called the police to find out his address. While I was on the phone with the police department, I took him into the living room and gave him cookies. I went back to the living room and decided to ask the boy again since no one responded the first time. As I walked into the room, he was already asleep, hugging my dog, Patty. I went back to the older man hoping he’d remember something about the boy.
I asked the old man, “Sorry to bother you again, but maybe you remember something. I don’t know what to do anymore; you’re the only one I could ask.”
“I remember seeing him come out of the porch where my daughter lives; it’s close; I can stop by. I’ll call you later if you leave me your number,” the old man said.
“Thank you,” I said as I handed the old man my phone.
I lived alone, unfortunately. I had no children. My wife and I were together for five years. We couldn’t have children. It turned out that I wasn’t able to conceive. Since I always hoped to have a large family, this was difficult for me to deal with. A part of me always dreamed of having a son that I would ultimately teach and a daughter that I would cherish more than anyone. Sadly, my wife could not be with me and left me. Although I was in despair, I tried to understand her; she was not to blame for what had happened to us.
After that, I was told that my wife was okay. She had remarried and had a son. However, I tried not to be interested in it because the pain inside of me was still, as always, overwhelming.
I decided to be alone so as not to destroy anyone’s life.
Covering the boy with a blanket, I heard someone knocking on the door, thinking maybe the older man had brought me the news, but I saw my ex-wife.
“Hey, why are you here?”
“Well … I came here to get my son.”
I didn’t expect such a turn of events, to be honest. “Go inside; he’s asleep.”
“Would it be convenient? We can go; I’ll pick him up.”
“There’s nothing to worry about. I need to let you know that I have seen him crying several times.”
“After we divorced, I met the man,” she said. “Michael is his son. We had a great relationship until my husband got into trouble. He was attacked by hooligans and died. Michael talks about his dad a lot. He always starts crying when he misses him. I think he dreams of him, so he does that sometimes.”
“I’m sorry if I made you sad,” I said. I felt terrible for her. I could tell she was tired, sitting next to me, weeping bitterly.
While we were talking, Michael woke up.
“Mom, you’re here!” Michael jumped to hug his mother.
“I didn’t know where to look for you, son. Don’t run away again.”
He said, “But I was looking for you because my dad asked where you were.”.
“Baby, we’re going to his grave, getting his favorite carnations. Now, let’s go home,” she said.
“Charles, thank you. Here’s our address; if you see Michael again, you’ll know where to take him. Thanks so much.”
I said, “All right, I’ll keep it just in case.”.
We said, “Bye, have a good night!”.