my neighborhood.

there is a family living just a few blocks away from me, according to my brother gavin, and he tells me if you walk straight for just two blocks and turn left, you’ll find them. my brothers don’t like this family’s children. they don’t like ross (6) nor his younger sister (4) because they’re annoying, rude, and uncivilized, they say. ross got in trouble and the apartment manager banned him from entering our block for a month the other day for punching the neighbor’s kid so hard in the face that he started bleeding, all because that kid was riding on his bike. my brothers tell me that ross is a trouble maker, and that they don’t ever want to go out and play with him. ever.

every morning when i go downstairs to find some breakfast, i glance towards the window facing the street and see two soft green eyes smushed against the glass and a smile indicating hope that gavin will come out and play. every morning, i try to look away, but it’s always too late – ross catches my gaze and starts screaming, “can gavin come play? can grant come play? please please please please please!” i ignore him, because i don’t know what to do, and i grab a bagel and run back upstairs. every morning.

gavin tells me on the way home from school that ross and his family is crazy. ross had a dog, a small black chihuahua, but it ran away. it still lives around the neighborhood, but every time ross tries to catch it, it takes its bony behind and runs even faster to somewhere where it feels much safer. gavin passed by ross’s house once, and he peered into the open garage and found a group of adults sitting in a circle, drinking bottles of beer while ross was standing on a chair in the middle, and he watched as the adults attempted to throw bottle after glass bottle at him. grant tells me over breakfast that ross’s parents have been told by the police that if they don’t pick up their act, ross and his sister will find another home. gavin chips in, telling me about the time when ross had a hundred dollars and his mom took it and spent it all on beer and cigarettes. gavin and grant both tell me that ross is crazy and not worth playing with. all the kids on the block say so, they tell me.

today on the way home from a meeting for a club dedicated to helping little kids one by one, my insides turned red and i wanted to yell at myself. i didn’t want to help ross because i didn’t want to appear nosy, but i wanted to help kids whom i didn’t know if i could help or not in faraway china because this club needed more activities to do. i didn’t know how to help ross out, but i had about as much knowledge regarding chinese youth and how to improve the conditions of their life. i got even more pissed. everyone feels like this at one point in his/her life, i muttered to myself, and it doesn’t make a difference whether you do or not. pick your ass up and do something, they can’t wait. it’s not going to matter whether you care or not; no one will know.

ross won’t know. he won’t care. it won’t matter. he’ll continue to punch a few faces when their corresponding bodies ride their bikes, he’ll continue to chase a dog that won’t come back, he’ll continue to live with his mom and dad who don’t seem to have quite grown up themselves just yet. won’t he?

those soft green eyes will always be there to greet me in the mornings. won’t they?