Sitting with my seven year old, playing a game of Go Fish, I hear behind me the words of a newcaster talking about an old father, lost to us now. I see reflections of the screen on the little brown face sitting opposite me.
He looks, his expression doesn’t change, but he sees a face, the color of his. He stares. I begin to tell him what little I know of this man. I tell him he was from Africa. He had lived in a prison for many years. “Like a jail? They have jail in Africa?,” he questions. I tell him there are prisons everywhere.
Pushing on, the words begin to flow. Not an easy feat, putting thoughts to words for a seven year old. Yet, I want him to know of the great men of Africa, the patient, humble, peaceful men who brought great change.
About to enter deep water, I am stopped – the door bell rings and our time ends. It’s not yet time.
Reflecting on raising this little boy, the hard conversations yet to come and the men who have gone before him, ensuring a little easier road. We have far to go.
(This is a post for Five Minute Friday – an opportunity to write a quick post without edit.)