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With all things considered, everything is going pretty well.
Hershel and I are settling in well in Meridian. They are already starting to see me as a leader, and our food and shelter situations are good. Most importantly, they have a school, and Hershel loves school.
He’s only just started a few months ago, but he always comes running home, bursting through the door, talking a mile a minute about everything he’s learned. I smile to myself, thinking about his antics. Even though they never met, he’s so much like his Daddy.
While I am preparing a little after-school snack for Hershel, I hear the door to our new home open and close.
“Hey Hershel, how was school?” I call out to him.
No response. That’s definitely odd. I drop what I’m doing and head over to the door. Hershel has put his backpack (which is almost bigger than him) on the floor to sit on the couch.
As his face comes into view, I see he’s been crying, “Hey bud, what’s wrong?”
He sniffles, “I don’t want to go back to school.”
“Why? What happened?” I say as I kneel on the floor to get closer to him.
Hershel finally looked at me, “Some kids made fun of me.”
I was shocked, “What? Do you know why? And who?” We haven’t been here long, but all the kids seemed friendly enough. I was always scared of this happening once Hershel started school. I’ve come to realize that worry is normal for a mom. I should’ve known something was bound to happen after this particular worry slipped my mind.
Hershel wiped his nose on his sleeve, “They’re a few years older than me. I was on the playground with my friends when they came up to us. They got in my face and were using their fingers to pull the ends of their eyes back to make them look thinner, like mine. And they were screaming that I looked dumb and stuff. My friends pulled me away eventually, but they kept looking at me funny after that.”
I sigh. I’m devastated. I was naive and privileged to assume that the end of the world would put an end to nonsense like this. Hershel’s so young. The fact that he has to deal with this, I can’t stand it. It’s not fair. Not anywhere, but especially not in our new home that’s supposed to be safe from all kinds of danger.
“Hershel, I-” I start.
“My eyes are different from yours. Different from everybody’s,” Hershel whispers, cutting me off.
I can’t believe I didn’t realize it sooner, but Hershel is the only person of Asian descent in Meridian. Basically, the only person of Asian descent in every community we’ve been in. I feel horrible for not realizing it before something like this happened.
“You’re right. You have your Daddy’s eyes. And Daddy’s eyes were beautiful. And different does not mean weird or ugly, you know that, right?”
Hershel shrugs, obviously unsure of my words.
“Come here,” I say as I hold out my arms for him to get closer. He eventually makes his way off the couch and into my arms.
I hold him close with our foreheads touching, “First of all, I am going to talk to those kids and their parents because no one should ever do anything like that to you or anyone else, okay?”
Hershel nods. He still seems pretty shaken up, so I run my hands through his hair. This action always seemed to calm him and his father before him.
“I know I don’t look like you completely and that I can’t truly relate to you in this way. But, your Daddy taught me a lot about himself and his family and their culture before he died, and I can try and teach you about them as well. I may not know everything, but I promise you, I’ll do the best that I can to help you feel connected to him and his identity, okay?”
Hershel nods again, this time feeling more self-assured.
“I’m so sorry you don’t have anyone to look up to that looks like you. But, I’m here, and I will try and pick up the pieces when your Daddy can’t.”
Hershel shares a small smile with me. I smile back at him. He can never stay too upset for long.
“Thank you. I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, kiddo. So much,” I pull him into a tight hug. After he pulls away, I see a reassuring smile on his face. He’s so strong, even when it’s hard to be.
“And I love your beautiful eyes, too,” I say before planting tiny kisses over his eyes.
Hershel giggles, “Mom, stop! That tickles!”
“Oh yeah? What about this?” I say right before picking up his shirt to tickle his stomach.
Hershel’s in a fit of laughter when I stop. I swear, every time I hear that laugh, my heart heals itself a tiny bit.
“Hey, would some strawberries make you feel better? I can tell you a bit about your Daddy while you eat them.”
Hershel lights up, “Yay!”
I watch as he runs off into the kitchen. A sad smile finds its way to my face. I look up towards the ceiling and sigh. He needs you, Glenn.
After a moment, I pick myself up and follow Hershel. Motherhood truly never prepares you for these things. In moments like these, I start to question if I’m enough for him or doing enough for him. Though, when those thoughts come, I try not to let them stay long.
Because, just like everything else, I’m going to make damn sure that everything turns out the best it can.