Temporary Transmissions

That kind of love

If there was one thing you could change about the world, what would it be? 

I remember looking at my boy. Completely surprised by the question, completely surprised that he would think to ask it of me. 

I can't think of anything I would change about the world. Juanito's smile is the world and what else could I possibly want when this beautiful boy was mine? 

You can't say you won't change anything, Juanito says. You have to name one thing. 

What would you change? I ask him then. 

Well, he says. I would make it so that everyone would have love for everybody.  I mean. . . 

He pauses, his fork raised in the air. His nose scrunches up, and then he continues. 

I don't mean love as in kissy-kissy 'I love you' but I think that if people would think about it like this--like, if I think about how I can make things better for you. That kind of love. 

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A little boy with hair so light is holding onto my hand and we are walking in the hot sun on a summer afternoon. 

He doesn't say a word, but just keeps hold of my hand like that. 

Do you know the way to your house? I ask. 

He turns his head and looks up at me. He squints before turning away and tugging at my hand. 

I suppose that means I should just follow after. 

It feels strange to be holding the hand of a child who isn't my son. 

Should we go down this street? I ask. 

He shakes his head and keeps on walking. 

We pass an empty playground and I wonder if it's possible for a place to be so empty in the middle of the day. 

Is your house nearby? I ask. 

If this child was yours, wouldn't you be out running from house to house, knocking on doors, ringing doorbells, asking anyone if they had seen your bright-haired boy? 

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