Despite the almost militant volunteer orientation, a Tuesday afternoon revealed disorder at Atlanta Union Mission. I was passed down the kids’ hall from absent volunteer coordinator’s office to empty middle school classroom to confused elementary school after school program before landing amongst the 2 year olds. How unsettling it must be to be a child there, with verdant volunteers coming to play or observe every few hours, and burned out staff and emotionally drained clients as more permanent attendants.
This flux manifested itself in the 2 year olds’ play. None of them stuck to a single activity for more than a minute. Book reading meant pinching fingers in the cold cardboard pages with haste to turn them. Nothing could hold the kids’ attention except experiments to get my attention.
At 5:00 pm, mommies came for pick up. Or most mommies came. The attendants left. I was left too, with Aaron.*
Aaron led me to snack time in the cafeteria. I was glad for his little hand in mine – it gave us purpose. Like the new kids changing class at school, crowds spun around us. We ate snack with a few familiar faces we had followed over. They left.
Aaron wanted to be held. I was glad for his barnacle grip – it gave us purpose. New faces came in the cafeteria and left. Bystanders told him to get down, he was too big to be held. My arms were starting to hurt. But he wasn’t too big, I was too small.
We all need to be held.
*His name has been changed.
You may be small in stature but you have a big heart <3
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