to the boy that I didn't get the chance to know

a restful musing

*Good morning to you precious one. Or good (you fill in the time of the day that you are reading this.) Here we are standing on the edge of a new week. This particular musing is so vulnerable that I wrestled this week if it was too personal to share online. Although I try to open myself regularly, I don’t believe that sharing your life exhaustively is necessary or even wise. So, just know that some of this will come out jumbled as I war within myself.*

“may you kiss

the wind then turn from it

certain that it will

love your back”

― Lucille Clifton

This is one of the first photos I’ve ever seen of myself.

I didn’t grow up regularly seeing photos of my childhood

so this particular photo is one of two that I’ve seen and it stings.

Big time.

For those of you who have more than a handful of pictures of your childhood, I count that as a privilege that I wish for. I know that childhood is tricky and that some are pained by the images that they have access to. Maybe your childhood wasn’t so happy and something that you would rather forget. I get that. I wish I had photos of all of the other pieces of who I’ve been, but that just isn’t the case. I don’t say that to stir up sympathy, I am simply sharing the truth.

“What they call you is one thing. What you answer to is something else.”
― Lucille Clifton

Anyways, until recently, I wasn’t able to look at this picture. It carried with it too many griefs. Too many questions that I can’t answer. But, today, as I lovingly look into this child’s eyes, I wonder who he was. I wonder how he made it out of the fear that gripped him. I wonder when he started and stopped being afraid of the dark. I don’t remember ever having this smile, but when I look into little Rob’s eyes my heart softens. There was a smile on my face even back then and that is a miracle. This simple truth reminds me that even before and during pain, I was a bright light. As I look into these beautiful, big eyes, I am reminded of

Rose J. Percy

words “light touches dark skin too.” This photo reminds me that there is more beauty inside and outside. I remember that this same boy took up the pen in second grade and created a book on “the desert.” It was a wild book filled with misinformation because I only knew of the desert from cartoons and I remember writing “whoever goes into the desert will die.” Well. I was uninformed.

I share this photo of a boy that I don’t know as a self-recovery practice. I’m able to look into these eyes and find myself, and I hope that you are able to find your own stories. Maybe painful stories. Maybe stories that you’ve forgotten. As I wade through my childhood and the memories that are there, I am using this photo as a guidepost and a sign that something beautiful can come out of darkness. Bless you beautiful souls. Being this transparent is giving me a hangover.

I wonder if the little boy I was could ever fathom who I have become? Not likely.

To the boy I didn’t get the chance to know,

We’re safe now.