Robert, My Boy

Robert, My Boy

A nervous woman stood across the street apprehensively waiting. “Come on Bill! I can’t wait much longer!” She cried, her belly bulging out under her maternity shirt. An anxious man scurried out of their subaru and held open the hospital door for the hysterical woman.

Hours later, the couple emerged carrying a screaming bundle. “Bill, this is life changing!” The overjoyed woman cried. “I just… time goes so fast, and I want the best for my baby Robert.”  Robert. The name Robert ran fast and clear as a shallow stream through my mind. Robert. Although the name seemed as tangible to me as catching wind in a jar, I loved it just as much as the elated mother seemed to.  When the overwhelmed couple left, I felt alone, until they returned six years later.

“No Daddy! I don’t want to go to school! You can’t make me!” A stubborn six year old stamped his foot, scattering autumn leaves into the brisk air. A chunky green scarf bundled the crying boy, and an elmo backpack lay on the ground, abandoned. “Robert, school will be fun, you’ll make lots of friends!” Robert’s dad said calmly. I wanted to embrace Robert, tell him how wonderful school would be, but all I could do was stand impassively watching Robert’s father drag him off to school.

Many years passed. Robert made friends, passed elementary, and middle school. I adoringly watched Robert develop from his first friend to his first girlfriend. However, Robert ended up with the wrong crowd one night, and made a mistake I would forever remember.  

It was dusk, a horde of teenage boys descended onto the street carrying spray paint. They laughed when they saw me and painted their names on me. I would have run, but my stony stature prevented me of doing so. After they left, one name stood out across my chest in red paint: ROBERT.

Years later, Robert carried a suitcase down the street, his parents in tow. “Good luck in college,” His parents began to tear up, watching their son leave.

When Robert was out of college and business school, he trotted down the street ostentatiously, and idea forming in his mind. “Yes, yes, that would be the perfect place to build my business.” Robert looked critically at me. “But that old grimy wall has to go first.” The reality of what Robert said, sunk into me, but I made sure to be mentally ready for my final day.  

When the construction crew arrived, I stood placidly looking Robert in the eyes steadily. I wish I could have told Robert,“Whatever makes you happy, my little boy Robert. If this is what you have to do to succeed than do as you must. I cherished watching you grow up, and if you think I have served my purpose, than I shall calmly go,” but alas, I would go neither poetically nor calmly, because at that moment an iron wrecking ball crashed into me, blowing my bricks into a million smithereens.