May 22, 2003
The Crowley Boy
When I was in first grade, I would walk down to my mom�s classroom everyday after school and read or play until she was ready to go home. Sometimes I would look at the painting on the wall that her students drew. Taking in the flowers and houses, parents and pets that. In the end though my eyes were always drawn to the pictures of a little boy who seemed to be obsessed with death and drew the most gruesome things. A quiet little boy who always wore black and never really talked to me.
When I was forth grade something horrible happened at the little boys house, something that would traumatize anyone and he and his brother were sent to live with their grandmother for a while. One day after school my mother and I went to visit them there. I remember wanting to say something to the boy but not being able to speak.
After that he came over once in a while. We used to sit on the front porch and play chess or go inside and watch movies. But we were never really close and after a while he stopped coming.
It was years and years later when I ran into him again. By that time I was sixteen and completely oblivious of anyone outside of my small group of friends who seemed to feel that everyone was beneath us. Not fashionable enough. Not pretty enough. Not thin enough. Not wild enough.
That summer my best friend and I ended up taking a class at a public school the boy was also attending. I remember watching him across the patio at lunch, sitting with three or four other of his friends. Sometimes I�d even walk over and join them. But my best friend would always show up sooner or later and pull me away, offended that I would even want to talk to them. Or my boyfriend would drop by and ask if I was ready to leave with a curious look on his face.
After that though the boy and I became close. We discovered that we lived only a few miles apart and spent a lot of our free time together. Visiting eachother late at night and talking about religion and music and war.
He grew up to become a mortician. Just a few months ago in fact.. and this Sunday he�s moving to Texas.
So even though you probably won�t read this, I�m going to miss you Crowley Boy.
10:08 a.m.