Future Memories

Last week, whilst having a drunken moment in a casino/mall/fancy food court in Las Vegas, I saw a little boy and his mother walking toward us. The boy was about 4 or 5 and he was holding his mother's hand as they walked. It wasn't a normal walk, though, he was taking big, jumping steps, sort of hanging from his mom's arm, laughing out loud. He had those shoes with red-flashing lights (that for some godawful reason, Karl Malone used to wear when he played for the Jazz). His mother was bending down, toward him, and she was also laughing. The din of the hallway floated around them, and I could hear their laughter and brief conversation. "That's so funny mom." "You're a funny boy!" They passed and their laughter faded out of ear shot.

As soon as I witnessed this, this, I dunno, vignette, I wanted to freeze them there, make them always remember this happy moment. A moment that probably occurs with much frequency and one that was instantly forgotten by them. A moment that they can both reflect upon in the future and know, just know in their hearts, that they were happy.

Too often, in my line of work, I think about what the childhood of my clients must have been like. Those clients of mine who sleep in public parks, who have 23 public intox charges, and who live day-in and day-out in a cycle of addiction and crime, I wonder if they ever had those moments that I just described. No matter the income strata, no matter the race, no matter the religion -- children must have experienced some happiness. Be it playing games with your buddies, being comforted by a parent, having an older brother teach you something cool, having a grandmother give you something neat for your birthday, having an aunt that congratulates you on an achivement. At least something like that must've happened. I wonder if my clients, in their cycle of addicition and crime, ever stop to think about those moments.

Not sure why that episode where complete strangers passed me in a hallway affected me so greatly. It just stuck in my head. What I've come up with is that it affected me because that boy is too young to have seen or to comprehend the lost innocence of the world; the mother too weary to fight against it. In that moment, there was happiness, there was innocence, there was love.