The first half of his life is a mystery. We’ll never know what he experienced, or how he interpreted it. The wounds, the hurts, the sadness…. loneliness. Yet, we do know the second half of his life. It was with US.
April Fools Day, the road trip to meet him was long and tedious. Upon arrival, amidst his shaved body and sores on his skin, I saw into his transparant eyes. He was a keeper. A deep soul. That boy named Duncan was to come home with us that very day.
Four years of life had gone by previous to our meeting. We never knew what he had been through, nor will we. Often I envisioned he was stuck in a cage for those years. His habit was to have his head propped up on a wall, or he’d secure himself under the four legs of a chair, so he still had the sense of familiar four walls, invisible or not. I suppose my interpretation could be wrong. Nonetheless, someone had given him up, and he was mine to love, learn, and befriend.
