“Take off your shirt, please…”
The Orphan’s handsome face begins to form a look of defiance, but suddenly reveals his sense of trust in me, as he eases his t-shirt up and over his head.
My eyes swell with tears and I am overtaken with pride for some ungodly reason…he has meat on his bones once more!!!
“Atta Boy, Rock Star!”
I punch him playfully in his washboard belly and wink blatantly up at his now-blushing, chiseled face.
“Why are you crying?” he is seriously wondering out loud at my over-expressiveness…
“Because I can so vividly recall what you looked like when you came back to live here…when I picked you up from the airport the second time…” my head is slowly shaking from side to side as I speak to him – looking him in his lighter colored eye (the left one). He’s been gone for a few days and I worry…but he always comes home and makes me feel stupid as hell for ever thinking he can’t handle himself.