by Anniel 5/26/16
My trek to elementary school took me past a large tract of dry and weedy land dominated by an old home which had obviously been built to house a large family. At the time I knew it, the building was falling to ruin and all of the children who had to pass it were frightened by the building and its sole inhabitant.
The man who dwelt in the house only ever walked backwards. He was always dressed in faded brown work clothing and a shapeless brown hat. And did I tell you he walked backwards?
Some of the boys on their way to school would occasionally, and almost gently, toss a dirt clod at the man, but even they were spooked by him, so there was no real harm intended. No adult ever spoke of him or tried to explain why he was the way he was. Perhaps they did not know themselves.
Had he been a normal child who laughed and played, and was loved by his family? Were they still living when his strangeness developed? If so, how they must have hated to leave him to the vagaries of this world.
Because he was strange, did anyone ever again touch him? Did anyone speak to him as though he were a real human being? Most of the time we children pretended not to see him.
Lately the man has haunted my dreams. Almost I can reach his hand and feel its dry grayness in mine. I wish I could speak and tell him he is not forgotten. I wish I had known enough then to love him, and to speak.
None of us is forgotten by the Creator God who loves all of His children and commands us to do the same. Even in their strangeness. • (600 views)