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When I was young my mother and I lived in a small town for a short while. Occasionally the two of us would go on walks around the town. Often times we walked down one particular road. At one side of the road was an old brick wall probably built hundreds of years before. Behind the wall was a long white brick garage with a very shallow center pointed roof. The end of the road formed almost a tee with the road becoming a back ally and continuing onto the right. But to the left a small gravel driveway leading to the back of a wide two story home with clean white plastic siding and a gray slate roof. Slightly left of center on the second floor protruded a wooden porch, upon which sat a young boy.
The boy was around my age and would always shout hello, by name, to passers by. I vaguely remember my mother and I going into the house a few times so I could play with the boy. Distant memories come to mind of the two of us sitting in a nearly empty room saying very little to each other. The boy was always very quiet and distant almost as if he wasn’t there at all. My mother loved going down this road and hearing the young boy greet her, but for me it was a different story. I dreaded having to go in and play with this kid again. It was never directly explained to me but it was clear by the way he was treated and refereed to that the boy had some form of “mental disability”.
Eventually me and my mom moved to another town and my memories of the boy faded away, completely forgetting about him all together. Decades later, I found myself wondering though the old alleyways of a now small city. I passed by an ancient crumbling brick wall behind which sat an old disused garage covered in green ivy. It seemed almost like I was in a dream, walking with my mother down this road again, her hoping to hear the voice of the young boy. At the end of the road I glanced to the left to see the back of the old two story home in clear disrepair. The wooden porch seeming like it almost was ready to collapse but still sat the boy, having not aged a day.
I turned to the right and began walking away from the home trying to ignore the glare of the boy who said nothing to me. I walked for almost half a block then stopped and turned around. I looked at the boy who was looking back at me. For some reason almost as if my mother was still there saying hello to the boy, I began walking back towards his home as I may have done many years ago. Without me even noticing, the boy came down from his perch and met me behind the old garage face to face. His eyes were dilated in an almost inhuman way. Looking directly into my eyes yet as if he was looking straight through me, the boy spoke. “I am not here that much anymore, I live mostly on the other side now”. Immediately I understood his saying and he continued and said he could see me there as well. He told me about the holes in my spirit that I’ve begun to try and heal. He told me I would prosper much more if I moved on from where I was and went to where I wanted to be. The young boy looking as if he was almost phasing between two realms looked at me and I gratefully thanked him, knowing he knew I understood his words.