Lost Boy

Now for something completely different.

A lying spirit speaks: "No one will ever love you the way you are, Jonathan… you’ll never find a woman who will put up with all your baggage and brokenness. Too much instability, too much wavering."

I am ashamed for feeling this way! What do I expect to get from “her” whoever she is?

I’m a ten year old boy, abandoned… I’m lost, in a strange neighborhood. There are rows of houses. I pick an attractive and pleasing house and look through the window… it looks so warm and inviting in there, beautiful decorations, plush couches… surely this can be my home, there is such a joy on the people’s faces, love is freely given and received. Acceptance, health and wellness. I see items in the house that aren’t mine... attributes that I desire. Beauty, confidence, the ability to speak eloquently, a strong faith, maturity and fun. Freedom in laughter.

I’m sure this boy, lost and alone inside himself could be a man in there… in that place!

I press my face closer to the window. The glass feels warm. Excitedly, I step away and see the entrance. I should knock…maybe they’ll let me in… No, hmmm, no. they won’t want me, look at me, why would they want ME? I look down and try to arrange the rags that are draped over me to look a little more… presentable. Anger wells up in me… “Stupid clothes” I mutter to myself, tearing at the seams and making things worse. I’m hopeless… I squirm around, looking for a way to hide my filthiness…my shortcomings… Anyone who would truly see me in the light of day wouldn’t want anything to do with me. But I really want to be in that place. I go back to the window and press up against it, staring into the wondrous landscape. It’s cold out here.

Wait a second, I wonder, they probably have clothes and a shower in there, maybe… just maybe… Perhaps I will just be a ‘servant’… maybe they’ll let me stay… at least a little while. I can be helpful… open doors, set the table, put out the trash… I can do THOSE things! 

KNOCK KNOCK… the sound of hand against wood brings me back to my senses… I just knocked on the door! Now what do I do? Before I can run or hide, the door opens. I am bathed in light and warmth. I smile. Yes this is it… home?

The woman at the door asks, “Yes, what is it…?” I stammer and stutter, shifting my weight, unable to make eye contact, “Um” Um? Is that all you’ve got, “um”? Stupid! A few moments pass, her eyes petrifying my tongue. I finally produce a coherent thought. “Well, I can help with chores, or… or… if you let me… I know PCs, calculus, history & movie trivia… of course… If you don’t need help, I will be leaving post haste!”

“Hmmm…” she says, looking skeptical at me, “Oh yes I’ve seen you around, come in. I think I can find something for you to do…” Dumbfounded, I fumble through the doorway and into the foyer. She asks me some calculus questions. Later, I help her with her computer and dispose of some trash. I take a break. The front door opens and a group of people stream in. I am so happy, I finally found comfort. She gave me a shirt for my service. I have a chance here… maybe she’ll want to adopt me; I can be useful for some things. The house is now full of voices and laughter, no one notices me for 10-15 minutes. I am in awe. 

Yet inside I haven’t forgotten my rags. Oh I hope they don’t see my shorts, or my shoes. And I hope they don’t ask me any questions. I don’t know… maybe I’m better off alone. The woman, the home owner, finally takes notice of me…… “Oh you’re still here? Can you leave? My friends are over and we have plans, sorry.” Deep down I can tell the “sorry” is just a word to her, but I eagerly accept her apology regardless of the fact that she’s far from sorry. I don’t want to leave, but I also don’t want her to be upset… I gather my things and sneak out the back door. Devastation.

But, but… I thought…? No I didn’t say the words, but they rolled around in my head. You THOUGHT? What did you THINK? That she, what, loved you? Oh foolish boy! Tears, a torrent of emotion flowed over me. “You’re right, you’re right. What was I thinking!?” You weren’t thinking! “I know I know, I’m sorry, so sorry.” Faced with the decision to wander off or stay, I decide to check out the other homes. 

The next several houses did not answer my frantic knocking. “Maybe they didn’t hear,” I tell myself. No… not interested. I wander the neighborhood and look in windows. Some homes hold no interest… some homes are too magnificent to even dream about! “No one will love me” I say to a stray dog that scampers by looking for the perfect place to relieve itself. But the dog wasn’t a stray – his owner calls him and he runs back to her with his tail wagging.

I wander back to the lady who let me help her. I knock on her door. No answer. It’s getting even colder out, and I’m more desperate looking through the window, remembering how happy I was within the walls. 

“Useful.” “Special.” “Valuable.” 

For just a second, I lost the idea that I was unlovable, and started to hope that it was a lie. I could find a home, someone could love me. Shame wakes up within me again and I hear it say: Love you? You’re crazy, the only way anyone will love you is if you do everything they tell you – perfectly. And then of course they don’t love you, for you, but for the things you can give… not much different from you. You loves this house because it will provide protection, warmth and a brief feeling of happiness. You’re using them as much as they’re using you… It doesn’t matter what you do… that house will never be your home.

I start crying.

And then I lash out on the nearby trashcan waiting to be picked up. Clang. “Ouch,” my toe hurts. I grab the can and throw it down on the ground. I kick it again… the can rolls a bit and stops. Lights come on behind me, a car is coming up the street. Embarrassed that I’m beating up a trash can – one that’s not even mine – I hastily pick it up and start walking away. 

The car pulls up in front of the house that I was admiring. And the owner steps out, looking around. “Is that you, boy? I was thinking about you.” She was thinking about me? My heart is warmed and I smile inwardly but downplay it. “Oh yeah… I was just walking by…” I manage. “So I do have some calculus…would you mind helping… I don’t want to keep you…” “Sure,” I say thoughtfully…”I have time.” (thinking to myself, I have all the time in the world, just let me in your house please.) 

This pattern goes on for a while and I fall more and more in love with the house.

Our time together is often short or interrupted but it is precious to me. We talk and get a little off calculus… When she doesn’t need help, I find myself watching her house, and at riskier moments, sitting in her lawn. I don’t stray too far from the street corner. My birthday comes. No one usually remembers or cares about my birthday…some will go through the motions, others will buy gifts… the home owner gives me a Star Wars themed card. She KNOWS me! The inscription says “your one of my best friends” 

I AM ELATED! I did it, I’m IN the house! It may be mine after all! I don’t want to leave – ever! 

The words “best friends” don’t leave my mind… the smell of the house was imprinted on that letter and it doesn’t stray far from my nose… I start making excuses to be around the house. One day I wander by and the lights are on in the window. I know she’s home, but she won’t answer my knock. I keep knocking, ringing the bell. Nothing. 

Days go on… the lights are on, but inaccessible to me. As I watch the house, friends come and go. She’s avoiding me. Confusion…sadness. Paradise lost. “What happened?” See I told you. She doesn’t like you, she never did… well maybe she did, but you blew it. You destroyed your chances of having a home. You’re too needy!

I want to pull out my hair and scream. What have I done? Panic sets in. “I must, must make this right.” I have been stripped of my status as a best friend by silence and avoidance. My mind struggles to make sense of it… “I just have to work harder, keep my distance and help better…do more… If she won’t talk to me, I’ll leave her a note.” 

Days go by. Nothing. My mind is swirling with hypotheticals… 

Finally I find a reply on the curb: “I have a lot of friends but none of them treat me the way you do. You make me feel uncomfortable.” My fears are confirmed. I blew my chance! “You!” I scream. “This is all your fault! If only you were content with doing some yard work and answering calculus questions… you would still be able to talk to her… to BE in the house as a guest… I’m never trusting you again. All this time, you’ve been blind to how you were making her feel. Never will you be able to set foot on that yard, let alone sit on the couch or eat at the dinner table.”

No more warmth. Back on the streets, I’m only left with myself again. 

The shirt I had is ruined. Now I don’t want to go to any other house. What’s the point? It’s a small neighborhood. My thoughts still linger on that house. It was amazing. I wanted it too much. My desperation took control and I destroyed the very dream I was desperately putting all my hope in. If I can move into a house, then I have success, I have worth. People would respect a man with a house – only men have homes, boys don’t have houses… I am a boy, but I want to be a man… to be a man, I need a house!

For a long time, I just wandered the streets… memories of that house stuck in my mind. If only…if only I wasn’t ME, if only the house could have depended on me a little longer, I could have helped with more math. My hate began to grow and spill over into every aspect. I came to hate this neighborhood and the houses in them. I gotta get out of here. But I don’t know where to go… I’m hungry, feeling completely worthless. 

I move on from there and follow a few other boys to another neighborhood, a bigger neighborhood… maybe there will be a house that I can move into there…


written October 29,2010