Joey

 Forty years have passed.

You were ten then.

I had joined Big Brothers

maybe because my nephew was raised by my single mom sister

and my dad

and I saw the value of an older male figure.

I'm not really sure.

Your mother worked second shift cleaning downtown office buildings.

She was never home when you got home from school.

Older siblings were normally there.

Your step father abusive and thankfully gone.

The mattress you slept on flat on the floor

looked like the dog had chewed it

and reeked of urine.

I never felt comfortable sitting waiting for you when I picked you up.

I am sure your house was not as clean as the office buildings

where your mom worked.

One day, I tried to call to arrange a visit to a park to play catch

or perhaps to the zoo or a museum.  

That I don't remember.

But there was no pick up on the phone.

I tried for a couple weeks and eventually decided

to drive to your house.

It was vacant. The furniture mostly cleaned out.

When I called the social worker at Big Brothers,

if I remember correctly, he had not yet heard.

Later, he called to tell me that you had moved

in the middle of the night

and returned to your mother's rural Kentucky.

Over the decades, I have wondered

what became of you.

I hope you did not turn out like your step-father

but I have never known.

I did not get a chance to say it then,

but I will now.

Goodbye, Joey.

I hope you are having a good life.