Javier
It’s the normal course of life to give, to nurture, to protect children. Perhaps we see our own past, when everything awed, when everything was still a discovery.
A child’s energy is proof of potential, ability, and desire. I feel a sense of longing when I watch a child. Longing for so much that has passed-- longing for pure curiosity.
So I watch Javier. Thirteen years old. He accompanies his father, the caretaker of our palapa. As his father cares for the grounds, tends to clearing the water line, sweeps the walks, he plays on the beach. Pokes a stick into the crab holes. Volunteers to show us the way to Chima. Cleaned out the kayak we’re taking to Chima, but I fret about Javier.
“Is he waiting for us to go, so he can go?”
Tony dismisses himself to find Javier. He will have no peace until he does. I hear them speaking Spanish; I love to hear Tony speaking Spanish.
Tony returns, “No, he has to stay here until 4:30.”
“Maybe we should take the jungle hike, so Javier doesn’t have to sit around and wait for his Dad.”
Tony contemplates the change in plans and knows there will be no peace until he does. He thinks it over and answers, “That’s a good idea.”
Or perhaps Tony’s inclination is to look out for the boy too.
As recipients of blessed childhoods, it is natural to want the same for all God’s children. Or maybe it is that we have our own children and now little ones of our little ones. Perhaps it has enlarged our circle of concern for all children. Perhaps one good deed will deserve another and a stranger will watch out for our children.
I wish for a playmate for Javier. “He must love when children come,” I tell Tony as I watch Javier throw rocks into the surf. I wish we had brought Max and Anni just for Javier. He would teach them Spanish, they would teach a little English. He would show them how to catch crabs. They would bring out a deck of cards.
They would become part of each others’ memories.
Instead, he will become a part of ours.
We take Javier’s offer to walk with us to Chimo. Or so we think. He does not walk with us, but leads the way.
The walk to Chimo is over a mountain, down to a beautiful beach and back up and around the same mountain. It takes longer than 45 minutes and has at least one unexpected diversion. Javier leads us up a path we wouldn’t have noticed to a new road because the old one has become a treacherous trail where as Javier explains, “We could die.”
All our concern for Javier, when his motive for hanging around may have been a greater concern for us.
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