Nameless Child

The first time I saw you, you were crying.

I had just come off a long shift at work and there you were on my doorstep. I don't think you knew you had the wrong house, but I know you didn't care. As I approached you, you stood as if to leave, suddenly realizing you had made a mistake. But no mistake was made that night. When you stood, the light shown brightly on your battered face and you tried in vain to hide the bruises. You apologized for the intrusion and turned to go who knows where. I sat down on the stoop where you had been and asked if you'd stay a little longer. You turned and looked at me, confused you asked,

"What for?"

It was not my smile that calmed you, nor my reassuring words for there were neither. In fact I gave no verbal response at all. I just sat there, waiting for you to come and sit down. Because, you see, I knew you would. And you did. You sat for a moment, staring at your feet before you looked me dead in the eye and said,

"My father did this to me. He didn't give me these bruises, and he didn't kick me out of his house. But he did this to me. You see, he's dead now. Been that way for a long time. But he made me...he made me this way."

I waited for an explanation, but you did not give one. We sat in silence for a bit and I wondered if anything I said to you would take root. After a moment or so of wondering I spoke. I didn't tell you not to blame your father. I didn't inquire about who had hurt you or even what your name was. I simply told you that there was a way to not be that way anymore. That you had a choice, you'd always had one. You didn't need to feel stuck in this man-made mold. You could be who God had in mind. It didn't matter who you were, and it never will.

You looked at me and laughed as if I'd said I could give you a million dollars. And you probably would have believed that more readily. As you stood to leave I shook my head before I rose as well and said,

"I could show you my scars and tell you my past, but that is not what you need. You are young and you still believe the world will give you an answer. So go ahead and look around, I can't stop you anyway."

You turned and walked away.

The last time I saw you you were crying.

You were on my doorstep again. You were smiling and standing tall and I did not need an explanation as to why you had returned. You came to meet me on the sidewalk, catching me in a loving embrace.

"Thank you!" you whispered softly in my ear. I pulled away to look into your eyes. They shone brightly and were wet with tears.

"My Father made me this way." You said softly with a smile. I laughed and you turned to go.

"Won't you stay a little longer?"

With a sad smile you shook your head. The hour was late and you needed to get going. So with one last smile and a wave you turned and walked away.

The last time I saw you, you were free.