When I arrive at the beach I pick them out immediately. There’s not a lot of people on the sand, only about two dozen. And they have their backs to me.
But still, I would know them anywhere. I could be blind and still pick them out in a crowd.
They’re sitting on a blanket, the little girl in Yvette’s lap, the little boy holding a kite as he runs back and forth trying to make it fly.
AJ calls out to him in Spanish, “Ven a comer ahora, Lucas. Entonces volaremos la cometa.”
Come and eat, Lucas. Then we’ll fly the kite.
His name is Lucas and I love him immediately because kids are like that, aren’t they? Easy to love.
But fear grips me as the little boy turns to his father. His gray eyes meet mine from a dozen yards away. Lock on. He picks me out immediately.
Squinting his eyes, he marks me as a stranger. Someone who does not belong.
And I want to run. Because I know how this will end. I know I have no place here.
But I don’t run. I don’t want to alarm him. I turn, very slowly, and walk back the way I came.
Then his little-boy voice calls out, “Hola, papi!”
And I turn back.
Yvette and AJ slowly turn their heads.
And they are smiling.