I was going to start off this by writing that “it is hard to imagine that there are any children today that live like this,” but after a moment’s thought, it’s easy to image that there are children that live like, this and in even worse conditions.
I would even go as far to say that there were classmates of mine that lived under similar conditions and probably were inches away from death.
Stories like this solidify my appreciation for the environment that I grew up in, and it forces me to pause and appreciate my life today.
Yes, we all may grow up under some pressures that may be less than ideal but I would venture to say that a good percentage of us have it pretty good.
At least in this country.
M has told me of her upbringing but I think that there are things that she won’t tell me – I’ve never pressed her on certain issues and I’ll just leave them. I also do not see anything in her behavior towards W that would make me nervous or cause me to press her on anything in her past.
There are so many children that are forced to grow up too quick as a result of their parent’s inability to parent or their inability to parent correctly.
Sure, I’m new to it…but we are doing a pretty good job at it. There were and are challenging times and there are going to be MANY more times that will dwarf anything that we have yet experienced as parents.
I know that we’ll work our hardest to deal with those problems as they arise and I have faith that we’ll be OK.
Parents can’t just run away. Yes, there are divorces…and I suppose that could be a form of running away and honestly, when the parent tells the children that the problem is with the other parent…is it really?
Again, I’m still working through the issues of my father leaving and his selfish actions –
I would like to think that our society here in the States are holding parents more accountable for raising their children than when this story was written.
As I would like to think that this is true…I am not surprised when I see a story in the media about a child left at home for days…or alone in a car…or a child held captive in a room, a closet or basement. And as I write this, I know that this is happening now – and it’s probably happening in my city, and I have the deepest pain in my heart to envision an innocent child – a child that I can only assign the same characteristics as my son, being subjected to conditions that no human, let alone a child who knows nothing in this world should have to bear.
And I can only assume that the parent or guardian of that child was subjected to a similar sort of punishment and this could be all they know – or perhaps the chemicals in their brain are just off a bit and they have no way of correctly caring for that child.
I think I’ve written before at my inability to read stories about the death of children or neglect/abuse of a child ever since the birth of W. Again, I can only assign the child victim a likeness of my son – and it’s too much to take in.
So, it goes without saying that this is one of those stories that will stick with me.