The stories in our cells

Today I want to write about a boy I know, a big-hearted, Labrador puppy-like Grade 1 student who has already experienced more trauma than many people could bear.

During a recent encounter I noticed he was upset. An incident most of us would dismiss as trivial, forgettable or fleeting had affected him deeply. Body and soul.

I didn’t join the dots until afterwards. History-trigger-response.

It made me think his story – history – resides deep within his cells. Part of his muscle memories, even. Possibly indelible.

It shook me. I want to tell his full story so the world can open its arms to him. But I don’t think I should. It’s not my tale to tell, certainly not without permission.

I’ll send a wish or a prayer out instead.¬†And give him a hug the next time I see him.

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