The boy sat on the carpeted floor. The carpet felt rough to his bare legs. He moved somewhat , adjusting his position to get comfortable. What lay before him were many different pieces of what might be a puzzle but in fact it was a series of differently sized blocks with holes in them as well as long and short wooden pegs. He reached to grab a block out of the many that lay there before him. It had several holes in it on each of the four faces. He then grabbed a peg and began to put pegs into block holes attaching each block by peg.
The boy squinted from a curtain being opened to let sunlight into the room. He looked up to see his mother standing by the window looking out. She stood there for a brief moment then turned and smiled at him. She then moved past her son, running her hand across his shaved head as she went.
The boy acknowledged the touch with a small smile. He then continued putting together
his creation.
Footsteps were heard and a door opened. Voices greeted each other. Then a sound that was stifled but emerged again. It came from the kitchen from where his mother was. It was the sound of crying.
The boy turned his head to look towards the kitchen. The crying was muffled. A curious look arose on his face. He stood and walked towards the kitchen.
The boy stood on the edge of the kitchen looking in with a look now more of concern. His mother sat at the table in the kitchen across from an older women, whom the boy recognized as his grandmother. She was a dimunitive women with short dark hair streaked with grey. She looked at her grandson and forced a smile. A sadness about her eyes held the boy. He blinked and turned his attention to his mother. She had gotten up from her chair and began to move towards him. He lingered there raising his head to look up at her.
He could see wetness on his mother’s cheeks. She moved her hands to her face, recognizing somehow his observation of this, trying to wipe the tears away.
She called his name. A broken sound. He felt a tingling sensation run through his body, looking at his mother as she moved towards him. Her hands then found him and pulled him to her. She pressed him hard into her. He felt the pressure but relaxed within it, comforted. He could sense something. His mother gave out a slight shudder as she held him. The pressure relieved itself. His mother knelt before him.
He saw tears on her cheeks, eyes rimmed red and the trembling lips that spoke to him. The words flowed out broken and each piece distorted. A numbing , immobilizing feeling held him now. A welling rose to his eyes and spilt over. He wished to move but something held him and the hands that touched him seemed not there.
Concentration and the will pulled him from the grip. He pulled away from his mother. He ran and found himself stumbling. Several more footsteps and something hard felt underfoot. Squarish blocks and pegs broke apart. One peg cracked and punctured itself into the boy’s foot. The boy fell to the carpet, wide eyed, staring back towards the kitchen. Tears lined his cheeks but not from the peg that was now sticking out from his foot.