Thinking

I can't stop thinking about a little boy. 

I saw him this evening in a KFC.  He couldn't have been older than 1st grade.  He was wearing ragged clothing and his hair was shaved.

They were in line in front of us, but I can't tell you what they ordered.  I was looking at this little boy and I felt...uneasy maybe?  I felt badly for him.  I can't put my finger on it.  He had caught my interest.

They ordered and stepped aside.  While my mother was ordering, I glanced over at him.  His dad grabbed him by the neck and told him through gritted teeth "if you don't knock it off I will kick your a**."  I was a little shocked.

Then, the dad grabbed his ear, twisted it, and lifted him off the floor.  He was touching the ground with the toe of one shoe.  He said "Is there something wrong with your hearing?"

The little boy had big tears in his eyes.  He didn't move.  He didn't say anything.  He had a look on his face that made my blood run cold.

The lady behind the counter asked to help me.  I hadn't even looked at the menu.  I was nauseated and completely shocked.  I felt flushed and I had been holding my breath.  My heart was pounding in my ears.  I had a hard time figuring out what I was ordering.  When I was done I noticed the family walking out.  I followed them. 

I didn't know what to do.  I really wish I had Greg with me.  Greg standing up.  I was scared of that guy. I didn't say anything, but I got in my mom's backseat and wrote down the license plate number.

When I came home I called the police.  I had no idea what I was doing.  I told the dispatcher the story and she took my information.  An officer called me back.  I told the story again.  He said:

"I don't know what you want me to do about this.  Abuse is defined differently by different people.  What do you want me to do about it?"

Uhhh.....something!  I tried to make the point that if he was willing to treat his child like that in public, who knows what is going on behind closed doors.  Actually, I have a pretty good idea.  I tried to convey my feelings to him.  Yes, the child wasn't beat bloody in my presence.  But what I witnessed made me feel...I don't have words.  Horror.  I have never felt anything like it.  It was the most intense gut feeling I have ever had.  It took my breath away.  I wish I had words or a label for what I felt.  I don't.  And writing it here makes it sound so benign.  Which it certainly wasn't. 

I don't know if the officer did the "welfare visit" he said he would do.  I keep telling myself that I did my part.  I saw it and I reported it.  The rest is out of my hands.  I can't shake the feeling that I should be doing something else.  Report it to social services?  Drive around the ghetto of Ogden looking for that particular van?  Then what?  So what have I done?  I've cried to my husband.  Knowing full well that it will do absolutely nothing to help that little boy.  Or his little sister.

It doesn't bring any peace.  I look at my little boy laying in bed asleep and I can't stop thinking about that other little boy.

And my heart literally aches.