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Oct. 23rd, 2009 10:58 pmMinerva, I trust the boy has been able to settle down to sleep tonight. It was a very emotional day for him, I'm afraid. Certainly, it was out of the ordinary.
When he arrived, I thought it best to keep things as close to routine as I could, but as I was giving him his instructions for his first task of the day, I found him looking at me so oddly that I stopped and asked if anything were wrong. Do you know, the boy sort of lurched towards me and wrapped his arms around me!
I confess I was caught completely off guard. And then we had quite a scene: as soon as I put my arm around him to touch his shoulder, he simply fell to bits. He never made a single sound, but he was wracked with great choking sobs. Goodness! I'm sure he hasn't had anyone touch him kindly in a great many years.
When he did collect himself, he pulled away, scrubbing at his face, and then, without meeting my eyes at all, he thanked me and scurried off to begin his work.
He worked all day as though he felt he needed to prove that he could be a help to me. As if there were any question of that! And at the end of the day, he told me he'd see me tomorrow in a tone that made it seem that scrubbing and scouring and changing linens was the most exciting thing a boy could do on a Saturday morning. Of course, it's a day he's not worked here in the past, so I understood that he meant much more than he said.
He's a good boy, Minerva, but so badly misused.
When he arrived, I thought it best to keep things as close to routine as I could, but as I was giving him his instructions for his first task of the day, I found him looking at me so oddly that I stopped and asked if anything were wrong. Do you know, the boy sort of lurched towards me and wrapped his arms around me!
I confess I was caught completely off guard. And then we had quite a scene: as soon as I put my arm around him to touch his shoulder, he simply fell to bits. He never made a single sound, but he was wracked with great choking sobs. Goodness! I'm sure he hasn't had anyone touch him kindly in a great many years.
When he did collect himself, he pulled away, scrubbing at his face, and then, without meeting my eyes at all, he thanked me and scurried off to begin his work.
He worked all day as though he felt he needed to prove that he could be a help to me. As if there were any question of that! And at the end of the day, he told me he'd see me tomorrow in a tone that made it seem that scrubbing and scouring and changing linens was the most exciting thing a boy could do on a Saturday morning. Of course, it's a day he's not worked here in the past, so I understood that he meant much more than he said.
He's a good boy, Minerva, but so badly misused.