I remember the day we met, in early October of
2016. God forbid I ever forget such a life-changing day. You
came straight over to where I was sitting on the rug when your
mom brought you in; you were too fascinated by my unfamiliar
presence to cry for her. Instead, you stopped a few feet in
front of me and I rolled a rubber ball to you, to show you I
was friendly and open to play. You instantly rolled it back,
smiling, and we had a game going. How many new little faces did
I meet that didn't require at least five minutes of soft
reassurances before hesitant curiosity gave way to uncontained
giddiness? You were something special, and I could already feel
my heart expanding to accommodate this tiny two year old inside
every one of its chambers. The way you immediately trusted me
makes me think maybe you knew all along that I was someone who
would love you. And love you I did. Each day after that, while
I was in that classroom, I would pick you up and hold you to me
as you sobbed for mommy (your teachers ignored it, knowing
you'd tire with the lack of attention, but my heart ached
to see you like that and I couldn't do the same), and when
the tears subsided you would still sit on my folded legs, wet
face against my chest, clutching me; you often kept your head
down and instead of those big innocent brown eyes I stared at
fringes of criminally long, beautiful black lashes. You would
never move from my embrace until you were made to. I guess you
thought I was your guardian teddy bear, but I didn't mind
at all. On the playground you were never far from my side.
Admittedly, I often approached you, but you were happy with the
attention and I embraced my little shadow. It got to the point
where a teacher chastised me for spending so much time with you
exclusively, but I wasn't phased. You liked wagon rides and
being chased as you rode a tricycle and when I spun in circles
with you in my arms. Your laughter was the sweetest sound
I've ever heard. I loved creating it. As time went by you
began running straight to me when I came into your room or
through the gate on the playground, or else making cheeky faces
at me until I ran to you and scooped you up. Sometimes you were
shy, keeping your distance while eyeing me longingly until I
knelt and opened my arms, and then the reservation would fall
away and you all but jumped on me. These are the memories of
our too-short time together that I'll keep forever. They
hurt terribly to look back on – not because they
themselves were painful, but because the accompanying
realization that we can't make any more of them is –
but I don't wish them away for the world. I love you so
much, sweet boy; I did from that very first encounter, when
we'd won each other over so easily. I hope I did well
enough at showing you that love, every second of every minute
of every day that I was with you. You made this job worth it,
and I would gladly trade all the money I've made doing it
for a chance to see you again. You came into my life at a
lonely, confusing time when I desperately needed clarity and a
sense of belonging, and you gave me just that and made all the
uncertainty about my future fall away. You made me sure that,
at least for now, I am doing the right thing. I truly believe
you are an angel, in all senses of the word. I think of you
every day, I pray for you every night. At a period when
everything seems to be changing, and not always for the better,
thank you for giving me something that will stay with me
forever.