The heavy calipers clinked and rattled as the boy struggled across the lounge.
“Come away from the window, Eliot”.
She smiled encouragingly whilst looking past him, the rapidly deflating balloon on the unpainted gate mirroring her feelings.
“But why didn’t anyone call, Mother?”, he asked, the plaintive wheeze straining at his weakened chest.
“Some people are forgetful, Eliot. It’s the way of the world”.
“Some people are mean, Mother”.
He was wise beyond his years. “That too, dear. Now, help me with this candy and cake, my 7-year-old little man. We’ll have our own special party with all these treats”.
My heart just skipped a broken beat... I have just left a class of seven year olds, one of the boys, who is so very quiet and gentle of nature but wise beyond his years, has to wear calipers due to a genetic birth defect.
His name is Eliot....
You perfectly captured the poignant blend of childhood innocence and the bittersweet realities of life.