ben2

   Ben returned home from Cubs that night, but not with his usual smile on his face. Something was wrong, I knew it from the second he stepped through the door. I checked him over before bed, and he didn't have a single bruise on him. I sat him on the corner of my bed facing me, and took his hands in mine. I told him that if anything was wrong, I wanted to know so I could do something about it. He didn't burst into tears, his little lips didn't even quiver. He refused to tell me what was wrong, dismissing his somber mood as just being over-tired. What else could I do? I let him go to sleep, like usual. I watched him for quite some time that night, I have no clue why. He looked so angelic, curled up on his bed, his hands placed under his head as if he were in a school play and only pretending to be asleep. He stirred, and rolled over as I tried to shut his door quietly behind me.
      Now, I'm not sure how they found out where we lived, but the next day, the boys from Ben's Cub troop were waiting for him in his tree house after school. Like usual, I started dinner as soon as I came home from work, and he played in his tree house. I usually have the radio blaring, or I listen to my disc-man when I make dinner, but that night I wasn't. I was listening to the birds sing their songs out in the forest beyond our back porch. They seemed more lively than usual, their songs more shrill, therefore making them easier to hear from the other side of the house.
      I was scrubbing potatoes when I heard it. To me, it sounded like something unhuman. I had never heard anything as heartbreaking in my life, and I hope I never do again. I dropped my scrubber and the potato and bolted towards the backdoor. I wasn't sure what exactly I was looking for, a fox cornered by a bear possibly, or a cat in distress. But what I found never even crossed my mind.

     The forest on our property is thick and lush, especially in the summers. It's full of little animals and sounds, like it has it's own little world. The atmosphere as you step in is almost overwhelmingly booming, vegetation and life just pops out at you. That's why I think Ben loved his fort, it was amongst so much life and nature's beauty at it's best. Anyway, as I entered the forest that day, everything was wrong. There were no birds singing, no little animals were scurrying, even the foliage seemed to wilt. There was almost no sun making it's way through the tall limbs of the trees, creating a gigantic blanket-like effect over Ben's fort.
     The only light which came through the shelves of leaves, shone on the forest floor near Ben's tree which held his fort. I kicked the leaves by my feet, and heard a little noise about 10 feet in front of me. My ears perked, and I listened harder. It sounded more like a purr than anything, but that was not possible. If it had been a cat that was attacked, it would never have been left alive. I made my way, slowly at first, towards the noise. As I came closer, my stomach jumped into my throat.
     "No, oh God, no," I muttered, and ran towards the sprawled out body of Ben. He lay on the ground, with his head looking up into the sky, basking in the only ray of light in the forest. His eyes were closed, but his face was wrinkled with a mixture of pain and shock. When he heard me speaking, he opened his eyes and tried to move, but he couldn't. He started to cry, and his tears trickled down his pale face like the stream which flowed only steps away.
      "Don't move," I whispered, and looked around for something. Anything. I stood up, and walked around Ben's limp body, looking at him from head to toe. His left leg was twisted in odd angles, and I knew right away that it was snapped in several places. His arms were caught behind his back, and his crying became gradually softer.
       I knew I was going to lose my baby.

     I don't know how mothers can accept losing their children. It'll take me a long time to get over Ben's loss, I know that for a fact. I've forgiven the four boys who pushed Ben from his tree fort, but that took a long time of searching inside myself and forgiving myself for letting it happen, before I could even think about it. The boys had to serve 9 years in a Juvenile Detention Center, which means they'll be coming out in a few months. My, how time flies.
      When I'm really down and depressed, I find myself in Ben's tree house. I've continued the tradition of running to this lush environment and counting on the animals and life around me to lift my spirits. Sometimes I hear Ben singing with the birds overhead when I sit up here. Nothing loud, though, but just enough. I can just make out his voice, singing the same old nonsense words to "Mary Had A Little Lamb", like he always used to. I know that I'm only imagining it, and I know that it's not always a good thing to let your imagination run wild, especially while sitting in a place where it's easy to get carried away by it all.
      Ben's little squirrel and bird friends come and visit me at times. They sit at the bottom of his tree fort, and look up into my eyes. It's crazy to say, but I wonder if they miss him. It seems to me that they're waiting for him, half-expecting him to return to his favourite hide out, for another friendly meeting. But he is never to return. How do you explain that to a squirrel? Or worse, how do you explain that to your own tortured heart?