“Kid alone on the porch”

8 year old little Patrick sitting on the edge of the porch across the street, barefoot, long shorts without a belt, swallowed in a too big t-shirt, looking down, staring at nothing, just sitting there. He sits there a lot, in deep thought, and often doesn’t see me until I’m almost at my house if Im walking back from the river. His situation is not good. I’ve never seen him smile. I often see him come out and just sit there on the edge of the porch, usually facing the other direction or looking down. In many ways, he reminds me of me when I was a kid… always a sour look on his face, even morose; I’ve never seen him smile. Almost unreachable.

Today when I was coming back from the river he finally heard me walking to my house and said loud enough to hear (he has this way where he “wakes” up his head as he turns to look upat you, as if he’s momentarily shaking away deepest thoughts and consternation) “What’s up Mr. Jarid.”

Sometimes there are 6 or 8 kids over there, I can never keep count. The little girls aren’t even six yet but they’re all sassy, with their hair in pigtails and feet in pink flip flops and little hands on their hips. The grandma does so much to help out all her grandkids (it’s her house and they stay with her a lot of the time). She works the graveyard shift at a fast food joint flipping burgers. But even though there are other kids over there, little Patrick on the porch always seems inwardly so alone. Lorenzo and me are gon try to get him into GPRC’s Youth InterACTION program.