This Kid (1)

This kid is 13.

He is not the friendliest kid in town, not the best mannered, or the most agreeable. 

But he became part of our family this year, my fourth hijo.

He chose us, and we are all grateful.

We will miss him deeply.

This kid is one of seven.

He is a thing-finder, an adventurous eater, a hard worker.

He loves fried eggs, roasted cauliflower and anything topped with lemon and salt. 

He is a boy of the campo, waking Saturdays well before dawn with his brother to slaughter a pig, then heading to the family finca to milk the cows and harvest oranges.

In my first encounter with him, now over 11 months ago, I found him loitering outside our fence, peering up at the house.

I invited him in, and he accepted with cautious curiosity.

It is not the first time in my life that a chance encounter led to a lifelong connection.

Like Dillon, he loves birds. 

I cannot count the number of times he has run into the house to describe in vivid detail a bird he has spotted and to identify it in the bird book. 

He is always spot on.

He is a natural birder.

He enjoys playing the drums in the school banda but is otherwise indifferent to academic pursuits, except for art projects. 

And recess.

I tried to get him to learn his times tables a few months ago, but he resisted. 

He doesn't like books much -- most people here have little exposure -- but his interest has increased of late, and occasionally he will select a book from the bookshelf, lay prostrate on our couch, and read.

Sometimes he asks me to read to him. 

He is awfully shy, but remarkably forthcoming with his feelings.

Once he confessed to me that when he is with people he does not know, he feels nauseous.

Perhaps this is why he disappears without a word when someone new approaches.

He is filled with creencias and has taught my children a wide range of local idioms.

He is an excellent source of local gossip.

He is unabashedly willing to share gratitude around our dinner table.

He is snuggly.

He comes by the house after 10 pm not infrequently,  after my kids are tucked in bed, looking for a snack and a chat.

Sometimes he comes for a squirt of shampoo, a pair of scissors, a machete. 

Sometimes he simply wants to fry an egg.

On more than one occasion, I have scolded him, sent him home, because it is too late (or too early).  

He showed up once drunk -- his first and only time, he swears-- in the middle of the day.

It was the last day of eighth grade.

After he told me what happened, he slept it off on Brynna's mattress on the floor.

I did my best to approach the situation with  thoughtfulness and love; little ears were listening.

Dillon will miss sitting on the porch with him blasting pop music and eating achiotillos, as tweens and teens are wont to do.

Jonah will miss (maybe) his incessant big brotherly teasing,

Brynna will miss his ever-ready snuggles. 

Paul will miss his emotional vulnerability.

And me?

I will miss his devouring of any meal I make.

His shy smile.

And his company.

Definitely his company.