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Harbison

I remember you

four years old

and in the system

a system that tosses kids around

like balloons

expecting them to float without help

expecting them never to deflate

 

I moved around too back then

seldom in the same house twice

just casual work, they said

a caregiver

it's easy, they said

you can pick the ages

you don't have to work with the teenagers

 

I only saw you that one time

in that house on Harbison

the house where the shooting happened

some time later

the house where the nine-year-old

stole a knife from the kitchen and wouldn't

give it back to me

 

But those were different days on Harbison

harder days than my day with you

when I saw you, there was a lightness there

a happiness that I wanted to bottle up

infuse into all the other children that couldn't find it

that didn't know light was ever

theirs for the taking

 

We went for a walk that day

I remember you talking, walking beside me as your feet

kicked at stones and fallen branches

You didn't seem to know you didn't have a home

that you were in a shelter waiting

another foster family

another place to pretend

 

I was so young then too

only twenty-five and not yet a mother

I wanted to wrap you up and take you with me

I wanted to be strong and be all

that you would need

but I knew I was not what you needed

and I knew that the answers were not so simple, and plain

 

You'd be an adult now

twenty-five or twenty-six

like I was back then

I'm scared to think of what the world has done

how badly it might have hurt you

I want to believe that you found a way

to hold onto your light

 

Perhaps you did go home

to your own family that was stronger and

able to care for you

maybe you finished high school and

even went to university and now you've

got a great job and you wake up happy every day

your life full of people to love and people who love you

 

I know that's all improbable

silly, wishful thinking that is naive and full of privilege

I know those stories are the exception

not the rule

and so my heart aches for you and all the others

the babies and toddlers and teenagers

the nine-year-olds with butcher knives

 

But when my heart hurts

I remember your lightness

in the dark

I remember your smile

and your chatter

and your understanding that in that moment

you were loved

 

© 2022 Shirley Hay