Every weekday morning I entered the carepoint and scanned all the precious smiling faces until his eyes met mine.
Ah my little boy.
His little scarred face twisted to shoot me a silly expression as he danced his way through the singing crowd of preschoolers to stand by me. His hands reached backwards to grab my hand, leg, dress as his eyes were still intently on the teacher. I grabbed his head, tilted it backwards, and kissed his forehead while he whispered “Hi Auntie” My heart is gone. Within seconds this little boy had the power to melt my heart and capture my attention.
At lunch he fought through the crowd of 5 year olds to reach his lunch bag first and then promptly came to stand by my side. His extended hand grabbed mine as he said “Auntie lets go.” He then led me to a place where we could both sit and eat. Other kids swarmed us, but he fought his way through to have a spot right next to me.
My lap was left empty for a few short minutes as he put away his backpack. Just when I started to wonder where he has gone to, I saw his smiling face come running at me. He slid into my lap and his little brown eyes squinted as his smile took up his whole face. All the other kids went and played, but my little boy sat contently on my lap. He grabbed my arms and wrapped them tightly around himself as I rocked side to side kissing his little face.
When school ended, my little boy would once again find my lap, hand, or hip. I would hold him tightly as he would play with my hair and say “Auntie you are beautiful” Those words stole what little left I had of my heart. His little hand grabbed mine as I walked toward the kombi stop. Sometimes I waited 45 minutes for an available kombi, but he never left my side. Many filled kombis came and went as I stood there with him on my hip, and when I finally found a kombi I could squeeze into my little boy would stand waving as he said “Bye Auntie Marie, see you tomorrow”
My heart drops as I write those words. I now sit in South Africa, a whole country away from my little boy Nkylulego, and I will no longer be seeing him tomorrow. My arms feel empty as I rewatch videos of my little boy, and tears start to flow as I realize I probably won’t ever see him again. I know I’m not the first one to love him, and I pray im not the last, but for a month he was my little boy. Why do goodbyes have to be so hard?
Many people told me that I would meet a boy on the World Race. Little did they know that a 5 year old Swazi boy would be the one to completely capture my heart.
