Tag Archives: lonely child

NEVER JUDGE A BOOK BY IT’S COVER

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As a child, I had a highly active imagination. Every day I would come home and regale my family at dinner time with stories about my daytime activities. I realize now that my family didn’t always believe my stories, but nonetheless, I continued. I have to admit that, at times, I may have exaggerated my stories. But, in fact, there was always some truth.

White rabbit with pink eyes

One night as we all sat down to eat our dinner, I said, “I saw a strange-looking lady walking down the street?”

One of my older sisters moaned and said, “oh no, here we go again, and they all rolled their eyes. I knew this meant that they weren’t going to believe a word I said. But I said, “it’s the truth. This afternoon I was sitting on the front step, and I saw a woman walking down our street. She had just gotten off the public bus on the corner of Main Street. And she walked in the direction of our house. I wanted to say “hello, so I walked down our front sidewalk and started playing hopscotch on the sidewalk closest to the street. When she was about to come near me, I looked at her and said, “hello.”

That is when I realized that she was kind of different looking. She had a young face, but her hair and eyebrows were completely white. And the strangest thing of all was that she had pink eyes, not blue, not brown or black. Her hair wasn’t blond like mine is. It’s white, like snow.”

“Oh, come on, Mom, you know that this is a completely made-up story. A young woman with white hair and eyebrows and PINK eyes.”

My mother said, stop making fun of your sister, she just has an active imagination. It’s not lying. She’s just telling a story.”

I got really mad at my sister because she was always telling everyone that I lied. But I don’t lie. I like to tell stories about what happens to me every day when I’m outside. And besides, the lady told me her name was Barbara. and that she at the end of our street in the house that has the apartments upstairs. And she works in a building in Philadelphia. I asked her what she did, and she told me that she types. And then she said, I better get home because I live with my mother, and she’s sick, and I have to cook her dinner. I asked her what she was making for dinner, and she said baked macaroni. I told her that was one of my favorite dinners. And she said she would save some for me and drop it off when she got home tomorrow.”

My other sister, said, “oh boy, that’s one of biggest whoppers she ever told. A young woman with white hair, white eyebrows, and pink eyes. Maybe she is part rabbit or something. My friend, Christine had a white rabbit with pink eyes.” And that is when everybody looked at me and started laughing. And that is when I decided I wasn’t going to tell anyone in my family my stories. And my mother said, “leave the child alone she just has a wild imagination, and that’s a good thing.” Everyone looked at me and that at my mother and laugher. My father said, “that enough.”

The next day I was sitting on my front step, waiting for my new friend to come down the street. And sure enough, a few minutes later, she just got off the bus. And she was carrying something in her hands. As she walked up towards me, she called out, “hello, I was hoping you would be here. I brought you a surprise. Remember I told you I would bring you some of the macaroni and cheese? Well, here it is, and it was really delicious. I hope you like it.”

“You did. Oh, thank you so much. I can’t wait to eat it. I told my family about you, and they said, that I made you up because I have a wild imagination. I told them how you had beautiful white hair and that you had pink eyes. But they didn’t believe me.”

“Oh, they didn’t well when you give them some of my macaroni and cheese. You tell them that said, hello and I hope they like my casserole. I will look forward to seeing you again if you are outside when I get off the bus. I was telling my mother last night that I had made a new friend. And she was happy for me, you know you can never have enough friends in life. Life would be empty if we didn’t have friends, wouldn’t it?” By the way, what is your name? I forgot to ask you?” And you can tell your family my name and tell them I have something called Albinism, and that is why my eyes look pink, and I have white hair.”


Just then, I heard my mother call my name. My name is Susan, but my daddy calls me Susie-Q. You can call me that. Because you’re my special friend.”

“Well, thank you, Susie-Q, that’s the nicest thing anyone ever said to me. And you‘re my special friend too. I hope you enjoy the macaroni. I’ll see you tomorrow. I look forward to it. Maybe you can ask your mother if you can walk me home sometime. I get lonely walking by myself.”

“Really, I would like that. I’ll ask my mom tonight at dinner. And that is exactly what I did, but my mother said, “well, maybe tomorrow I should wait outside with you so I can meet your new friend. Would that be alright?”

“Sure.” And that next afternoon, I was so excited about seeing my new friend that I went out there right after I got out of school at 3 o’clock. So, I had to wait a long time. Then I saw her getting off the bus, and I ran into the house to tell my mother. My mother said, “hold your horses, Susan. I’ll be right out.

And just as Barbara was out in front of our yard, my mother came up the sidewalk and said, “hello, I’m Susan’s mother. She has been so excited about me meeting you. Thank you for being so kind to my daughter, and the macaroni was delicious. I brought your dish back. And as a thank you, I filled it with my special Tuna Fish surprise casserole. I hope you like it.”

“Well, thank you. This has been a great week for surprises. I made a new friend. And now I don’t have to cook dinner tonight. Well, I better be on my way. My mother is probably looking out the front door for me. She’s alone all day, and she doesn’t get out very much.”

“Really well, she is welcome to come down and visit me anytime. Right now, I’m a stay-at-home mom. My husband sleeps all day because he works at night at the Callohill bus depot in Philadelphia. He is the head dispatcher.”

“Really, I walk right by that depot when I leave my job, and I take the bus home. That’s a coincidence. Maybe I’ll stop by and introduce myself one day. What’s his name? His name is Hugh, everybody knows him at the bus depot. And my name is Marie. And you already know our Susie-Q.”

“So, Susan, it was my lucky day when I met you. I made two friends.”

“Mom, can I walk Barbara to her house? I promise I’ll come straight back. I won’t be late for dinner.”

“Alright, Susan, but come right back, or you’ll be late for dinner, and you know that’s a no-no at our house. It was great meeting you, Barbara. I hope Susan doesn’t talk your ear off. She does love to tell her stories.”

“OK, mom, I’ll be right back after I walk Barbara to her house. I won’t be late.”

And that is how I met my new best friend. And every day after that, I would wait on my front step for Barbara to get off the bus on the corner, and then I would walk her home. Sometimes, she gave me some homemade cookies to take home to my mom and sisters. And one day, she asked my mother if it would be alright if I came to her house to have dinner with her and her Mom.

And a week later, I walked with Barbara to her house, and I had dinner with her mother and Barbara. And we had my favorite dinner, hot dogs and beans. And Barbara had made my favorite chocolate chip cookies.

It’s like my mother always said, “don’t pick a book by its cover. Or you’ll never know what treasure you will miss.

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The Stoop

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“Jilly go outside and play. Stop moping around the house.”

Jilly flops down on the top step of the porch and looks up and down the street. There isn’t anyone in sight.

The boarded windows of the house across the street are tagged with graffiti. Broken bottles, beer cans, and trash are strewn across the overgrown, dead lawn in the front yard. The steps are covered with yellowed newspapers in various stages of decay. Unopened mail tumbles out of the rusty mailbox. The sad truth is it isn’t the only house on the block that looks abandoned. This neighborhood is the poster child for urban blight.

Jilly isn’t shocked or disturbed by the condition of the neighborhood. She has grown up in similar neighborhoods, some worse than this one. This is her third foster placement in the last year. She had to be moved here because her last foster mother overdosed and was taken away in an ambulance.

Victorian home

Sadly, this isn’t the first experience that Jilly had with junky foster parents. It was just the latest edition to a long line of looser adults that promised redemption but delivered empty promises.

Jilly’s glad that she had finished the second grade before being moved to this new place. Unfortunately, now she doesn’t know any of the kids in this neighborhood because she didn’t attend school here. It was a Catch-22 situation.

Something is tickling her foot. She looks down to discover a black ant marching across her feet and into a crack between the bricks on the steps. The ant is soon followed by several more of his six-legged comrades.

She watches the ants as they hurry along the step and over to a discarded crust of bread. Each one of the ants picks up an immense portion of the crust and carries it just as quickly back to the crack in the step and down into their tunnel.

Jilly is so entranced by the activity of ants she doesn’t notice a cat that struts on the sidewalk in front of the house and down the street. Until he lets out a loud yowl as he passes the rusted gate.

She looks up and sees him. He’s staring right at her as he yowls again. It almost seems as if he’s calling out to her. She reluctantly leaves the ants to go and meet the cat.

She wrenches open the rusty gate and steps onto the sidewalk. Jilly leans down and scratches his head. She notices that the cat has scars and is missing patches of fur from his face and all the way down to his long-broken tail.

“Hi, kitty, what’s your name? My name is Jilly. I just moved here yesterday. Where do you live?”

The cat swishes his tail back and forth and continues his walk down the street. He looks back at Jilly one last time as he moves forward. Jilly calls out, “wait, wait for me.”

The cat walks past two houses and then stops in front of a big old house that has a wide wrap-around porch in front. It’s the only house on the block that looks as if someone cares about it.

The grass is cut and there isn’t any trash in the yard. There are flowers growing all along the white picket fence that surrounds the front yard. There’s an arbor that’s covered in climbing red roses. It smells like heaven.

Jilly is startled when the cat meows again loudly. A very old woman comes to the door. She’s wearing a long-flowered dress and has white hair pulled tightly back in a bun.

“Good morning Frank. I’ll be right out. Sorry I overslept this morning.”

Jilly looks around the yard she can’t believe how beautiful it is. How different from all the other houses and yards on the street. She looks over at the cat and he’s rolling on the grass. Then he starts grooming himself. He licks his paws and then washes his face and whiskers.

Jilly laughs at him. “So, your name is Frank.” Jilly walks over to Frank. And he allows her to stroke his head and scratch behind his ears.

The old woman makes her way carefully down the porch steps holding onto the railing with one hand with a dish in the other. “Well, who might you be? I see you’ve made friends with Frank. He’s a wonderful friend to have. He and I have known each other for many years.”

“Hi, my name is Jilly. I just moved into the house down the street. The one on the corner with the old fence around it.”

“Did you, and how do you like living there?”

“Like living there? Well, I don’t know. I just moved here a couple of days ago. I guess it’s all right. I have my own bed this time. And Mrs. P that’s the foster mom hasn’t yelled at me or hit me so far. And she cooks things besides macaroni and cheese out of the box. So that’s better than the last place I lived in. And I don’t think she’s a doper. So that’s good too I guess.”

“Oh, I see, well it’s nice to meet you, Jilly. And how did you meet my friend Frank here?”

“Well I was just sitting on the step watching the ants and he came walking by. He called out to me to follow him. And here I am.”

“Well Jilly, I’m so happy Frank brought you over for a visit. I’m very pleased to meet you. My name is Mrs. McFarland. Would you like to come to sit up on the porch and have some lemonade and cookies? I just made them and was about to have my afternoon snack?”

“Cookies, yes I would love some.”

“Well, Jilly has a seat. Let me give Frank his lunch and then I’ll go get our snack. You can sit right there at the rattan table and chairs. I’ll be right back.”

Jilly watches as Mrs. McFarland puts Frank’s dish on the sidewalk and whispers something in his ear. Then she stands upright and walks back to the steps and into the house. As she opens the screen door she looks over at Jilly and gives her a warm smile. “I’ll be right back Jilly.”

Jilly watches the door afraid that Mrs. McFarland won’t come back out again but then she hears her say, “Jilly dear could you open the door for me?”

Jilly jumps up so quickly she almost topples the rattan chair. She pulls open the screen door and holds it back. She peeks into the house and sees a beautiful old piano and overstuffed chairs and a red velvet couch. There’s a wonderful glass lamp next to it that has pansies painted on the lampshade. Jilly has never seen such a place in her life.

“Well, here we go Jilly. Have a seat, I hope you like these cookies. They’re chocolate chip with coconut.  And here my dear is the fresh lemonade, enjoy.”

Jilly looks down at the cookies and the frosted lemonade glass. She feels like she’s died and gone to heaven. She doesn’t ever remember having homemade cookies before. She takes one bite. It’s so delicious she can’t help but eat the whole cookie.

“Jilly dear, slow down. We have all the time in the world. Why don’t you tell me about yourself? I would love to know all about you.”

“You would?” Jilly can hardly believe her ears. No one has ever asked her anything about herself or listened when she tried to tell them anything. As Jilly starts telling Mrs. McFarland about the second grade Frank comes up on the porch and lies down next to Jilly’s feet.

Jilly leans down and pats his head as if she has been doing it all her life. She can hear Frank purring softly. She looks over at Mrs. McFarland and she has a sweet smile on her face. Jilly is finally here, she has found her home.

“Oh, these cookies are the best I’ve ever had. Can I have more lemonade?”

“Of course, you can.” Mrs. McFarland sits back in her chair and says softly,” continue on with what you were saying, Jilly.”