My Name is Steven

 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.