GM times 2, and a (what?) BM, too?

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Hello everyone . . .

It's been quite a while since I actually started a thread (as opposed to
responding to threads that are in the archives).

Earlier this week, I decided to go to breakfast at a local restaurant that
has one of those breakfast buffet lines. I took my morning paper, prepared
to find a quiet out-of-the-way corner to enjoy a meal (such as it was) and
read my paper. Just getting out of the house was all I wanted to do. The
last thing I expected was a GM . . . much less two!!!!

The first one occurred when I was in the entrance line to pay. There in
front of me was a man, probably mid-30's, with 4 kids in tow, all come to
this morning festal event. Did I mention that one of the four kids was a
precious LG about 9 (oh yum! just perfect!) . . . there was also a LB
about 7, and two babies under 2 (forgive me for not noticing more about
them -- there was only one place on earth my eyes wished to be at that
moment (well, the rest of me too, but, I couldn't be TOO obvious now, could
I? ha ha).

The kids all looked like they had been hastily dressed, without too much
care -- well, as if (excuse me, no offense but) a father had done the
dressing. There. I said it. This little angel was thin (oh, very
attractively so, I might add), she had the most perfect auburn hair
trailing down her back that begged to be touched, and lightly ran through
with a loving hand . . . it was also rather tangled in places from not
having been properly brushed out, but my, my, somehow was it ever so
perfect looking. That little dimension just added to her beauty. Only one
little touch, if only I could get close enough . . . and then, they were
paid up and gone to find their way through the maze of the breakfast
bonanza.

I was sitting in just the right spot (oh, did I make sure of that) to
glance over at her and drink in her loveliness . . . I was also sitting in
just the right spot to be noticed by her father . . . and he didn't appear
to have seen much child or youth liberation in his life, so I had to
restrict my urge to just stare while letting my tongue just loll out of my
mouth.

For some reason, my paper remainly largely unread, and I made more trips to
the buffet line than any 3 other patrons did that morning . . . for then, I
could eye my lovely out of the sight of her father, and just drink to my
heart's content of her lovely brown eyes, and the way she was with those
babies -- a grace that only a true little angel could possibly have. I did
some stares from the buffet line staff (not for having imbibed of the real
meal, but for my multiple trips, and usually for just one little item). I
am almost certain that after I left, they were sure to raise the price of
the buffet accordingly.

Well, as it happened, the place where I was sitting in order to survey the
little piece of heaven I had happened upon was by chance situated near one
of these coin operated ripoff machines which contains all manner of lovely
stuffed animals. There is a small 3 pronged grapple attached to a small
crane inside, and when you deposit your 50 cents (sometimes it's less,
sometimes more -- this one's 50 cents), you can maneuver the crane and the
grapple just so -- the thing goes down, grabs something, and in theory, is
supposed to sometimes give you one of the prized creatures. I've never
seen it work, but little kids seem to get such joy out of it . . . speaking
of which, as I'm sitting there wondering how long I can stare at one time
at my first little treasure before having to look away to avoid attracting
attention, up walk these two other little girls, about 10 I'd say.
Luckily, I'm sitting facing the direction of the machine.

These LG's, both rather on the shorter and heavier side than the first
vision a few tables away, walk up to the machine with that conspiratorial
air of two little girls whispering secrets and giggling -- they were armed
with their 50 cents. They spent a moment or two looking at the selection
before them (at the same time I'm pondering the goodness of whatever god
brought me to the real buffet -- nothing to do with breakfast either -- oh,
not that it couldn't . . . but if my mind wanders that road, I shall have
to go fantasize a bit, and leave you here with this untold tale -- how rude
that would be!), then each one deposited one of the coins, and they both
take part in moving everything just so, giggling and jumping around all the
while.

They got nothing for their efforts, except that infectious joy that
children -- LG's especially -- can extract from the most simple things.
For my part, I got plenty for their efforts. They remained in front of me
for several minutes . . . but then they were gone. The spell broken.

Then, I look instinctively over to the table where first LG was -- gone!
The place was empty. So was my heart. I looked down at the
conglomeration of stuff trying to pass for food, and realized suddenly that
I was done. I'd consumed what I wanted already . . . and I felt the better
for it.

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Now, to change gears a bit, I must relate this incident from yesterday
evening. The nearest thing I could term it would be indirectly a Boy
Moment, but then I'm in the wrong forum for that, so let's just call it an
incident, shall we?

I received a phone call from someone my wife and I know from our work with
kids in a religious setting. This woman is the step-mother of one of the
kids (a LB, about 11) we worked closely with until I became very ill some
months ago (chronic, varying severity, debilitating, not fun) and am no
longer able to do those things at present. She had called to check on me,
and to tell me that J. has been begging to come over to the house again (he
had come over with his dad a few months ago, and just had a blast playing
computer games, and I had a blast watching him play. Okay, so he wasn't a
LG, but it was still enjoyable. Hmmm, where'd I put that Boy Chat addy
anyway? . . . )

She told me that time they happen to pass by the street on which we live,
he yells, "Hey that's where [my name] lives -- when can we go back over
there?"

That just made my day to know that I'd had that strong of a positive
impression on him, and it remains after so many months have passed.

The point of this part is just this: this LB, his parents, and everyone
else with whom we are involved in working with these kids just thinks I
hung the moon, and "all the kids just love him" is the constant refrain I
hear from all the adults. Little do they know that I, whom they have
idealized in some fashion as the Perfect Child Worker, am a lover of
children in ways and across dimensions they could not even imagine. I am
not a molester, and would see no harm come to any children I have ever
worked with (none ever has) -- yet, if it were known that I really love the
children, and not just in some sanitized, abstract way, but really love
them and care for them, I would be a pariah to them, an outcast, and worse.

So, this phone call for me was both a joy and a sword of sorrow to my
heart. One more reminder of the awful division of my life . . . as Kero
said so eloquently in an earlier post below, it was a reminder that I am
truly A Lone.

I think I'll cry now.

Thanks for reading, if you braved this far down . . . I suppose I'm done
now.
Mikhail Rasputin

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