I was told that his two friends were just transferred out, yesterday. That might explain the lost look in his eyes. That he was sick, that might explain his collapsing into my arms. He is probably older then he looks, probably not been held for a while. He is abandoned, was brought in off the street, no family, no name.
“He is called Fortunate,” the director tells me.
“He doesn’t look Fortunate,” I reply
“ Maybe he is not now, but he will be… with a name like that, people in America say they will adopt him.”
I sit with this small boy fast asleep in my arms and all I can do is will all the fortune that is in my body into his. I want so badly for his name to be true. I sit with him for most of the visit, he sleeps. When it is time to go a volunteer comes over and pulls him off my lap, places him on a mat on the floor.
Fortunate.
"With a name like that, people in America say they will adopt him." Is that the only thing Fortunate has to look forward to, the possibility of adoption and going to the U.S,? So sad...
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