ALONE

In the orphanage and after our evening talk the teenagers filed out and into bed, all except fourteen year old Fernando, we asked him to stay back. "Take a seat Fernando."

It was lonely time!

This young boy is a Mexican Indian, placed in the orphanage by the Government. He doesn't speak much Spanish. He sat uncomfortably straight and stiff in his chair; his eyes avoiding ours. I know Fernando, he's very quiet and not close to anyone. A loner in the true sense of the word.

The kids call him "Indian."

I was asked to tell him that his little brother was dead.

No one wanted to tell him, neither did I. Fernando had asked about his little brother from time to time but the subject was always avoided. The Mexican Government had separated the two of them several years back, placing them in different orphanages. I knew about the situation but was waiting for information to come in as to what happened and where the young boy was buried. We only knew Fernando had no mother or father or even a relative, only his little brother, whom he loved ... and now his brother was dead. The government stonewalled us in trying to get the details.

It was time to tell him.

As we sat there, I broke the news to him as gently as I could. He took the news like the Indian he was, stoic; emotionless, his black eyes staring straight ahead. If he felt pain or loss, it didn't show.

He had no questions ... I had no answers.

I broke the silence by asked him if he liked it there at the orphanage, he paused and then whispered "no".

"Fernando, if there was anything in the world I could do for you or give you, what would it be?" ... After a long pause he whispered, "I wish I had a family."

He walked from the room ... truly alone.