The Child Within

Francisco woke up with a start, fear creeping

into his bones as he realized he was no longer at home in his bed.  He couldn’t remember where he was, what had happened.

He reached out, hoping his mother was somewhere around. “Mommy, mommy!” he called, “where are you?”  Crawling out of the box he found himself in, Francisco looked around him.  He could see other children and cars passing by, but his mother was nowhere to be found.  Francisco started walking very slowly, unable to go very fast, as he had a limp having been stricken with polio.  Francisco relied heavily on the makeshift crutch his mother had made for him.  He did not recognize the streets, but he felt that if he went far enough something might seem familiar after a while.  After a few minutes his shoulders suddenly slumped over, and he simply sat down where he had been standing.  The events of the previous night flooded back to him.  His father had dragged him and his mother to this alley, where he had proceeded to shove him into a box.  His mother, crying, had begged his father not to do this.  “He is only a child, our child.  How can you do this?”

His father merely laughed a drunken laugh and pushed his mother to one side.  “A cripple is no child of mine.  I have put up with his crawling around the house for long enough.  Now he can fend for himself or die trying.  I work hard, and the food I put on the table is for those who will amount to something, not a worthless cripple.”

Francisco’s mother, forgetting the fear she had of her husband, began hitting him with her fists causing his father to anger even more.  “You hit me one more time, woman, and I will leave you here to fend for yourself with the cripple.  Remember, you have other children at home that need you.”

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