Growth In a Mirror

A young, stereotypical black man stood in front of me today. 

I could see the pain in his eyes and I suddenly forgot every word I wanted to say. 

He began to tell me his story and said that he wanted me listen, 

so I felt it polite to give him my undivided attention. 

He said, "Dead mother, absentee father, double digit siblings, and a broken heart." 

I knew all too well that what he said was a disaster from the start. 

He continued by saying, "Have you ever felt the pain of a broken heart or the pain that comes when you have to cry in front of the brother figure you never had." 

I felt in my heart that this would soon turn bad. I answered no and he preceded to tell me how the one true love he had left him with nothing, but I hadn’t heard the worst yet.

I mean he had to cry in front of his brother, how bad does it get? 

He then asked, "Did you lose your mother so early you forgot the sound of her voice?" 

I felt he understood my pain so I answered yes because I had no other choice. 

He then asked, "Do you believe in your heart that your father loves you?" 

I wanted to say yes so bad but I couldn't because I didn’t know if was true. 

He then asked, "Are you still in love but ashamed to let your feelings be known because of the ridicule that'll come along with the declaration of your emotion?" 

I felt that was a long question but I answered yes because I admired his devotion. 

I saw the tears run down his eyes and I ran to get tissue for the man whose tears wouldn't stop falling. 

Then I realized I couldn't hand him tissue through the mirror and that I had to go because life was calling. 

I just pray you don't ask for details about my story. 

It was at this moment I realized I wasn’t a kid anymore. 

However, my story will only get better when I’m able to tell you more.