Two years ago today
I walked down the hallway surrounded by a group of officials.
In front of us was a toddler-sized table with three toddler size kids eating their meal.
The social worker pointed to the boy who's back was to me.
"This is him. This is your son. Lazar."
I knelt beside him, gently placing my hand on his back.
"Hi." I whispered, my throat so tight I could barely speak.
He kept his eyes on his food, seemingly unaware I was there
except that he pulled his plate closer to him
afraid I would take his food.
I choked back my tears.
I couldn't let him see me cry.
"Hi Lazo." I said softly.
He stopped eating. Frozen still.
Without taking his eyes off his food,
still holding his plate,
A minute later, his food gone,
we were escorted down the hall to the playroom.
He held the hand of his caregiver.
Walking behind him I saw he walked like a brand new walker
and really wasn't much bigger than an 18 month old toddler.
The social worker told him in Serbian
"This is your mother."
as she placed him in my arms.
This picture was taken seconds later.
He was SO tiny.
After only a minute I had to put him down because he was too overwhelmed. Poor baby. He was so lost. So disconnected from the world. But slowly, over the next few days, I would begin to reach him.