Little Boy Lost
I never really talk about it but I have a son out there somewhere too.
I am fifty-nine now and I met him only once when I was in my late thirties.
He looked human he had my grandfathers smooth black skin but yet he had sapphire blue eyes.
His hair was very curly but snow white, not platinum blond but white like that of an albino.
He looked to be between seven and ten years old but there was nothing child like in him.
He spoke only telepathically and only spoke to question me about things he saw happening about him and he was extremely interested in the cultures and spiritual beliefs of Earth.
He never told me his name and only referred to me as Father.
Although very stoic he was not emotionless.
He would take my hand when we were walking outside, but I think he did that because he sensed that it made me a bit more comfortable.
I know he had emotions because I did get him mad when I once thought to myself this was one hell of a strange dream I was having.
He stopped walking and looked into my eyes and painfully squeezed my fingers with a vice like grip and "telepathed" to me "Father I am not a dream I, AM, your son!'
I had thought that because this was the only dream I ever went to bed in, slept and then would wake up and to find he was still there.
That and the fact that we would teleport to places that I have never been before always to sacred sites or holy places where he would ask me if I knew why these places were held to be sacred or holy by Eartheans, as he called we people of Earth
Some of these places were on mountain tops (which I did not like for I am Acrophobic), or in deep underground caves (I am Claustrophobic), and underwater (I am Hydrophobic), or in the middle of a jungle (I am scared of cannibals).
He would take me to meet people that seemed to know him or be waiting to meet him in these places.
They all were friendly and welcoming towards me and recognized the boy as my son.
Some said they were glad to see me again, and some of the places and people were vaguely familiar to me as if they were from long ago dreams I had as a kid.
I could not understand how they all spoke and understood English so well, my son said he was using telepathy to translate our different words into thoughts.
He told me thought was our original language but it was taken away from us long ago,
He said we still speak it but have lost our ability to understand it,
He said that everything in the universe speaks it but for some reason we Eartheans have stopped listening.
He said our heads are too noisy now to hear anything but our own thoughts.
I started to ask how I could get my hearing back?
'Listen" whispered into my mind "just listen with your eyes, with your ears, with your heart."
Once we returned home I asked him how he knew all those people, and places we had gone to during the day.
He looked at me and for the first time I thought I saw a slight smile come to his lips and he said "I didn't know them Father, you did."
As he turned to walk out the room I called to him saying as I did every night
"See you tomorrow kid."
He stopped and looked to the floor and then back to me, and for the first time I saw a hint of emotion surface in those large clear deep blue eyes.
"Father," he said, 'I leave tonight."
"Oh yes that's right." I said pretending to look for my shoes.
i averted my eyes for I was afraid that they would have betrayed my breaking heart.
"It's been two weeks...Time flies..."
"When you're having fun," he completed my sentence in my head.
"I was wondering where you..." I started.
"It is far away and it is Earth like I will be a teacher there."
Came his answer in my head.
"I was wondering if..." I started as I was tying my shoe
"No Father we will never meet again." then as if he'd heard the question I had been silently wrestling with since I first met him which was the first and only time he spoke he said, "Yes Father, I do love you."
I looked up surprised not at what he had said, but that he had spoken the words that I already knew but desperatly longed to hear, but he was gone.
I was awakened the next morning by my own sobbing in my sleep, everything was as it should be,
It was the next morning only one night had passed not two weeks so it was just a dream right?
Well, the problem with that is for years I mourned the loss of my son as if I had really lost a child.
In fact as I am writing this there are real tears in my eyes and a real pain in my heart.
That was twenty three years ago, in the time that passed I lost my younger Brother Ralph, my father, my beloved girlfriend Carolyn, my baby sister Janet, last year this time my mother passed, and on the fifteenth of last January 2010 I lost my elder brother Chuck and although I loved them all I never shed a tear for them, although I do miss them beyond what is my ability to describe here.
The morning after he left, I went into a deep depression for weeks afterwards, eventually time gave me the distance I needed to heal, and fill the great emptiness in me.
Yet when I think upon that nameless boy in what all logic tells me was just a dream, but my heart still tells me was my real son, I always come to tears.
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