Love Led Me Here

I'm going to tell you a really great love story.

And it’s going to be the least cliche and the most cliche story you’ve ever read. It’s actually my favorite story, but I’m a little biased. It’s one I might tell my future kids someday. One that I’ve told several times already. One that I’m going to share with you, now, because it’s just one of those love stories I personally think everyone should hear. Okay… ready?

I met a boy over winter break of 2017. He doesn’t live anywhere near me - he lives in Jamaica - so it was one hell of a shock when I realized a relationship was brewing before I could even get it to really understand it. Ro*, who I have recently dubbed “the epitome of black boy joy”, is six years old. He lives at Sophie’s Place - a compound of Mustard Seed Communities † (MSC) in Kingston, Jamaica. And if someone isn’t holding him, he spends most of his days in a wheelchair. You see, Ro has Cerebral Palsy, as many of his other roommates at MSC do, and he doesn’t speak at all - but I can assure you, we now have our own language. Our relationship (or long distance friendship, if you will), unlike any other one I’ve had in the past, is probably the most genuine one I have ever formed.

I was shocked when I first met him, at the time during which he was five years old. He was considerably small and fit very snuggly into whoever’s arms he happened to land in. He was spoiled in this way; everyone wanted to pick him up and coo and cuddle him like a baby because physically, he seemed like he was. During my first encounter, I was not exempt from the cooing. Ironically, he actually didn’t like me even a quarter as much as I liked him (which was honestly the story of my life anyway).

For at least the first two days, he would jerk himself every which way, as if he was trying to shimmy his way out of my grasp. Not that it mattered much - there wasn’t anywhere to shimmy to, but the floor, which he almost found one too many times. Feeding him was also quite difficult. Imagine showing up to the final exam after not having gone to class all semester.

Imagine trying to change a tire with a straw.

Imagine being someone’s biggest fan after just 24 hours and all they do is spit their food back at you with a straight face. I think you get the picture - it was frustrating as hell.

By the end of the week, all that changed. Feeding was easier. He actually started nuzzling himself into me instead of fighting to escape me. MSC’s staff even started joking that I was clearly his mom because of how often I was with him. All the progress made those difficulties earlier in the week seem trivial. At the end of long days of traveling throughout the island, he was the one person I could count on to just find a moment of peace. We had plenty of giggles and games over the course of the week, and then, with the blink of an eye, it was over. However, when it came time to leave, I was surprisingly… okay. I wasn’t upset. I wasn’t filled with the despair of living hundreds and hundreds of miles away, as I thought I would. It’s like I knew I wasn’t done with him or MSC yet.

Next thing I knew, I was on a four hour flight home, with no means of really communicating with him. I turned a picture of him and another resident, Nellie*, into my cell phone background picture and talked about him to whoever would listen for the whole year. And if we’re being completely honest, I was probably still talking about him if no one was actually listening. And if we’re being more honest than that, I probably repeated the same stories more than a handful of times. Why? Because I’ve never built a bond like that and it was pretty damn amazing to say that I finally did. A bond made from almost nothing. All I had to do was exist there with him a few hours a day and then boom, we were best buds.

I thought about him every day for 364 days. I thought, and I missed and prayed for him so deeply that before I really even noticed, it was day 365 and I was frantically packing my bag and on my way to him again. This time was different than the first time we met. I didn’t have to get him to warm up to me. He knew we were just gonna pick up right where we left off and so did everyone else. Although still small in size, he grew so much. His hair was longer, his grip was stronger and his giant new front tooth was very hard to miss behind that huge smile.

My favorite new quirk? He laughed this time. He laughed so much. If you have been fortunate enough to have ever met Ro, you’d know that he laughs like he just pulled the best prank ever and you fell for the trap yet again. It’s not surprise that a laugh like that came while he was tugging on my hair or when pretending to be fast asleep just to scare the absolute shit out of you. You know, typical kid stuff. Being with him again after a full year was catharsis like I never knew before. I wanted so badly to know that our friendship was still genuine, and luckily, it still is.

It’s been three and a half weeks since I put Ro to bed for the last time. He went down laughing and so did I. I don’t think I’ve ever come across anyone like this - love like this - and I don’t think I ever will again. I don’t really think I need to. I got it twice, and that’s twice as much as most people get in a lifetime. This love is very different, very pure. It’s biblical. It’s monumental. Subtle. Illusive. Personal. And very much real. Love like this does not fall at the feet of borders nor does it crumble to different ability. Love took me by the hand and lead me here. And here it rests. Here, in my memory, there’s a story of an average volunteer and the sweetest little boy she’s ever met, and there is love. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

* Names have been changed to protect the privacy and identities of the residents at Mustard Seed Communities. † Mustard Seed Communities is a non-profit organization that strives to provide care for the most vulnerable in all stages of life. MSC is based in Jamaica and also has homes in Nicaragua, Dominican Republic, Zimbabwe and Malawi. For more information, please visit www.mustardseed.com