I was sitting on my stairs, taking a break from bringing my luggage up the stairs. I had one more flight to reach my apartment. I was sitting between the second and third floors. The neighbors on the third floor have teenagers; their son has never spoken to me, not even a Hi or Good morning.
While I was taking the break, he came out of the apartment;
when he turned, he looked down; and saw me and said, Hi Neighbor do you need
some help? His words were like music to my ears; it seemed the doors of heaven
opened. I would appreciate it -I told him. He came down, took my luggage, went
up and, placed it in front of my apartment door. He came down and stopped in
front of his apartment; I was still catching my breath. He looked at me and
asked You don't have anyone to help you? I smiled and said No. Then, with a
knot in my throat, I told him, my son, left to be with his family, died of
COVID.
I saw the flyer of your son next to the mailboxes; he was a
nice guy. Yea, my baby, was a good kid. He looked at me and said, moms suffer a
lot when they lose a child; I can tell you are suffering. I see it In your eyes
when you pass by.
Yes, we do suffer, sweety; very much. I got up and started
walking up the stairs. How was your Christmas ? he asked. It was pleasant and
loving. I was with my children and family in Florida. And yours? I asked. It
was ok; things were not like before, he said. By the way, what is your name?
- I asked. My name is Steven, he said.
For a minute, my heart wanted to come out of my chest. I felt like I was going
to collapse…That was my baby's name. His name was John Steven Ponce, I said.
Steven's are good people, he said. They sure are sweety; they are the sweetest
people. Thank you, Steven, for your help. I walked into my apartment to sit in
my chair, look at Johnnies pictures on the wall, and cry myself to sleep.
Waiting to see my Johnnie in my dreams.
