A Boy Under a Bridge

So remember last night when I said my unwanted wiener dog-induced walk wasn't about walking at all? Remember when I said it was about listening? I need to add an addendum concerning what my walk last night was really about ... last night's walk was about preparing me for what would happen on tonight's walk. Tonight's walk, I might add, that I embarked upon willingly, much to Ollie's delight.

We had walked for about 45 minutes and we were beginning our final bridge-crossing game on the bridge nearest to my house when Ollie suddenly stopped running and barking and twirling like a ballerina. He trotted over to the side of the bridge and stuck his head through the metal bars and whimpered. Ollie is never deterred or distracted in the middle of his bridge game, so I knew something was up. I was right at the railing of the bridge before I saw what had caused Ollie to stop ... a young teenage boy was huddled on the metal framework under the bridge, and he was crying. I hesitated for a brief moment before I asked the kid if he was okay ... what a sad world it is when I'm reluctant to ask a kid if he or she is okay because I'm afraid someone might think I'm a predator. What a sad, sad world indeed, my friends.

"Hey, man," I said as I leaned against the rail trying to see the boy's face. "You okay down there?"

"Yeah," the boy whispered.

"Whatcha doing under the bridge, buddy?" I asked, trying my best not to sound overly concerned.

"Thinking," the boy mumbled.

"Gotcha," I said in a voice that I hoped sounded calm and relaxed. "I sure understand what it's like to want to hide under a bridge and think. You sure you're okay?"

"Just go away," whispered the boy. His arm emerged for a brief second as he used his sleeve to wipe his nose, quickly disappearing as he shifted his body further under the bridge. "You can't help me. No one can help me. Just go away. Please."

"Okay," I said quietly. "But first I need you to promise me you're okay, buddy. I can't leave until I know you're okay. So tell me you're okay, and then I'll leave."

The silence coming from beneath the bridge was deafening, broken only by the sound of the boy's weeping and Ollie's whining. After what seemed like hours, the young boy said softly, "Please leave. You can't help me. No one can help me. Go away."

I was the silent one then as I tried to decide what I should do, whether I should walk away and hope the kid was just being dramatic or if I should call the police. But then I had another thought ... Ollie and I would walk down the bank of the creek so that I could see the kid face to face. And that's exactly what I did. When the kid realized I was heading toward him, he quickly turned his head away from me and said, "What are you doing? Why are you coming down here? I told you to go away."

"Well, see here's the thing," I said as I inched my way closer to the boy's hiding spot. "You didn't promise me that you're okay so that meant I couldn't go away without coming down here and making sure you're okay. If you would have just promised, then I would have left," I said forcefully. "So turn your head around here and let me see your face, convince me that you're okay and then I'll leave."

I'm sure my mouth dropped open when the kid finally turned around and looked at me ... he lives right down the street from me. 

"No wonder you didn't want me to see you, man ... I know you. So what the heck, little dude? What's going on?"

I won't share the details of the half-hour conversation that followed ... I won't tell you what was said in that conversation between an old gray-haired gal standing on the bank of a creek and a 13-year-old kid hiding beneath a bridge. But I will tell you this ... I sure am glad Ollie dragged me out to walk last night and insisted we stop and see the kids on the playground. I sure am thankful that our encounter with a special little girl and her mom has had me pondering all day about the importance of being there to listen when someone needs to talk. I sure am grateful that Ollie stopped in the middle of his favorite game tonight and led me to exactly where I needed to be.

Last night's walk had absolutely nothing to do with walking, but it had absolutely everything to do with listening tonight ... listening to a boy under a bridge.