One day, I just sat there, remembering the days when I didn’t know of these things. I didn’t know what love really meant, or the kind of impact that just one thing could have on a person. This is why, I guess, some people say that I’m too different, or deep. They don’t know what things I have learned because they themselves have not learned them. Sometimes, people think I've changed too much as a person, and others, well, they just don’t get it. Nobody really understands the change that follows the understanding of love until they’ve experienced it themselves.
It was early October, the snap of cold air brushing my skin as I pulled my thick socks up. I was ready to go to a routine soccer game with my family, my brother’s actually. We chugged along the roads like we did every weekend, not knowing what was in store next. We thought we had knowledge about life, but we were only scraping the surface. We were not aware of what life could really hold. But soon we would find out.
When I sat out my blanket and chair I took a deep look at the beauty of the nature around me, at that point, I thought that was the whole joy of life. Sure, it was a small park with little kids soccer games going on all around, but it had some sort of special shine that made it different, maybe it was a secret foreshadowing of the great lesson ahead. The ground was besprinkled with brown, crumpled leaves, each one lying in such a way as to tell a story. The grasses stood tall and defiant, yet droopy as if under the pressure of rain, or something of the sorts. After examining all the facets of the environment around me, like I usually do, I sat down and found interest in watching the small children run around aimlessly.
After a while of watching toddlers attempt to kick a ball around, I went for a little walk. I did love the smell of the fresh air, away from the cars and the smoky factories that line my neighborhood. It was then when I stumbled upon a boy. He looked to be around four or five years old, a little older than the children playing soccer. I asked him if he was playing or watching with which he replied “watching what?”
A closer look showed the worn clothes, tattered shoes, and muddy hair that encased the boy. I realized that he had been here quite longer than the other people. I asked him where his family was and he asked me what that was. I told him that a family is people that you care about, people who you are close to. He told me he had nobody to care for. After persuading him to follow me back to my family, he walked bouncily behind me.
When we got back to the soccer field, my parents were slightly confused. I explained to them that I found the boy while I was walking out in the park. They still looked pretty unsettled. I told them that the boy said he had no family. The realization set in on their faces. My mother’s face showed a touch of panic while my father still looked skeptical. My mother was intent on bringing him home to a family while my father had strong belief that he could be a runaway. Since it was getting increasingly colder out and there was no hope of finding someone at the park, we stuffed him into our car and drove home extra fast.
Once we arrived back home, my mother made a series of phone calls. One call was to the police station, she asked if there were any missing boys of about the age five, they responded by saying that they hadn’t had a missing boy in this town for over six years. When she returned, with no solution as to how the boy had appeared, we began to ask him. He told us that he never remembered anybody bringing him to the park or any house he might have lived in. We had all unanimously decided that this boy would indeed have a family, our family.
The look in his eye was not that of the expected joy or shock, but rather confusion and concern. We explained to him that we would take care of him and since there was no other place for him to go besides the orphanage, he would have to live with us for some time. It did not take long for him to warm up to the idea, for his mind was easily changed, a frightful concept for a child who was living on the street. We headed down to the police station, which led to the orphanage. After talking with the lady at the desk for about two hours, mom turned around and blatantly said that we were adopting him.
Well, adoption is a much longer process than I thought, I arrived home with the weight of lead in my body. I slumped down on the couch and before I knew it, it was morning. I got dressed, reluctantly, and got going on the day. We worked with the boy to figure out his name, he said he had never had one and that he didn’t even know our names. We introduced each of ourselves. Next was the task to name a five-year-old child. We were used to naming a child when they were born, so we decided it was fair that we could all decide on a name. After scouring the internet and an old book of baby names from when we were born, we all decided on the name Charlie. He was beaming from ear to ear. When asked why he was so happy, he simply responded that he finally had something of his own, a name. This child was so overwhelmed by something that is taken for granted by millions.
After all was running generally smooth, he ran up to me and said: “Now I know what a family is, it’s you, you are my family.” Because after all, the only thing that matters is what kind beauty, love, and contentment are in the eyes of the beholder.