"E'er coming and going - never at rest - E'er struggling for life - is this our behest? E'er fighting hard battles, ever at war - Conditions so hard - is this a just law? Forever and aye no rest for my soul, Struggling e'er on, ne'er reaching my goal. I cannot believe this, thought of in my sleep, For seeming past griefs, I bitterly weep." - Ardelia Cotton Barton

1967

"But Mommy, why can't I go on the monkey bars? I promise I won't hang upside down like last time. Please, Mommy, I promise," the little boy wheedled in a soft voice.

"No Elijah, you cannot go on the bars over there. They're far too high off the ground for you, and you never play on them properly in the first place," the woman calmly tried to reason with the temperamental boy.

"But Mommy, I promised. Don't you know what promise means? It means I can't break it. You told me that. Pleeeaaassee, Mommy, please can I go?" he continued to whine.

"Elijah James, you promised last time too, and look what happened. You fell and broke your arm. I'd rather not make another trip to Dr. Gibbings so soon. The rest of the mothers on this block gave me dirty glares for a week because of you. As if it was my fault you tried to swing upside down off the jungle gym, when I had repeatedly told you not to do that anymore. So, no. The answer is no," she answered in a firm tone.

"Fine," Elijah huffed, and plopped down into the sandbox in front of his mother. He angrily kicked the sand beside him and crossed his tiny arms across his chest.

Looking up at the kids running and screaming around him, Elijah picked at his shorts, fidgeting nervously. Everyone else was playing with each other and having fun, and he was just sitting there. None of the other boys ever wanted to play with him, and the girls always wanted to sit around and play with their paper dolls. He didn't want to play with stupid dolls; he wanted to hang from the monkey bars, because the world always looked so much funnier upside down.

But his Mommy wouldn't let him. She wouldn't let him do anything fun. All because he was too young. It wasn't fair. Jimmy Pacar from down the street was only one year older, and his mom let him play all day at the park. No one ever told him he couldn't hang upside down from the monkey bars. Elijah couldn't wait till he turned five as well. Then no one could tell him what to do. He could hang upside down all day till he got that funny feeling in his head like last time. Elijah looked down at his right arm at the thought, remembering how everything had gotten fuzzy and his stomach had felt tingly. He'd started giggling uncontrollably at the feeling, when his Mommy had noticed and started toward him to stop him. She had looked so funny, all blurry and weird, that Elijah had started laughing even harder, losing the grip his legs had on the bar and falling to the ground with a loud thud.

There was so much pressure and a rushing feeling in his head, that Elijah didn't even notice his arm or the crack it had made when he fell. But his Mom had aped out, crying and making him get in the car. She made him go to Dr. Gibbings, the man who always stuck things in his arm and then tried to make up for it with a piece of hard candy. The man wasn't fooling anyone with his stupid candy. Elijah hated him. He remembered Dr. Gibbings reprimanding him for playing so recklessly, before he asked him what color he wanted for a plaster on his arm. Elijah had scoffed at the choices the doctor had given him. Both the green and pink were icky, but his Mom wouldn't let him get white because it would get dirty. Long-sufferingly, Elijah sighed, looking down at the bright pink plaster on his arm. It made him so mad. He couldn't even play on the bars if his Mommy had let him. He couldn't do anything with it, and no one wanted to play with the kid in a plaster.

Elijah sighed, leaning his face into his other hand, and stared at nothing in particular. Out of nowhere an Indian-like war yell was heard to his right. Elijah whipped around and saw a taller, curly-haired boy he hadn't seen before, running by - moving his hand over his mouth repeatedly - with a crowd of little boys following after him. Pouting, Elijah realized they were playing Cowboys and Indians. And no one had asked him if he had wanted to play - like usual. No one wanted to play games with a kid that only had one good arm. He'd had no one to play with for weeks now, even less than he normally did.

Elijah watched the boy dart around the merry-go-round and in between the slide and swings, leading the boys on a mad chase, barely staying ahead of them because of his laughter. The boy took a running jump, swinging up onto the monkey bars in front of him, and then he hefted his weight up on to the top of the bars, climbing up and staring down between the bars at the boys below him. All the boys he had been playing with were younger than him and couldn't reach the bars above them. And apparently they weren't smart enough to realize they could climb up the sides of the bars to get to the top. Elijah rolled his eyes, annoyed.

The boy sat there grinning and laughing continuously at the struggle below. He kept sticking his tongue out and waggling his fingers at them, teasing them and trying to make them mad. Elijah giggle at this from the sandbox, deciding that if the boys were too stupid to climb up, they didn't deserve to play with the boy. The boy heard him laughing at their antics and looked over at Elijah, meeting his eyes for a second before cracking a smile, and holding a finger up to his lips to keep him quiet.

The boy turned back to those below him, continuing his teasing until they grew tired and left. The boy sat back on the bars pleased with himself and grabbed the bar next to him, flipping himself over to wrap his knees around it, and then swinging his body down with his arms thrown out to catch the wind from the movement. He stayed like that, using his legs to keep his body swinging back and forth, letting his arms hang and closing his eyes, enjoying the moment. Just like Elijah liked to do.

Elijah glared jealously at the boy. Why did everyone else get to do what they wanted, while he always had to sit next to his Mom, because he was too little. It just wasn't fair. Elijah turned his head around, peeking hesitantly at his Mom who was reading on the bench. He knew he shouldn't...but he couldn't help himself.

"Mommy..." he said hesitantly.

"What is it, Elijah?" his mother asked without looking up.

"That boy is hanging from the bars like I like to, but no one is yelling at him to stop. Why is he allowed to do it, but I can't?" Elijah pouted.

"Elijah, he's much older than you, too. You're only four, and you already have a broken arm from playing rough. I'm sure if he was younger with a plaster on as well, someone would be stopping him from doing it. I'm not keeping you from it to be mean, Elías. You're just too little. He's at least old enough to be here by himself." his mother sighed.

"So...does that mean when I get the plaster off I can go on them again?" Elijah asked hopefully.

"No -"

"Please, Mommy, please! It's my favorite! I swear, I won't fall off again. And I'll be older too. Can I? Can I, please? Please Momm-" Elijah slurred out, hurriedly.

"Elías, yo no estoy diciendo otra vez. La respuesta es no. Es demasiado peligroso. Detente. Sólo jugar en la arena; construir un castillo," his mother rapidly retorted.

Uh-oh. His Mommy yelled at him in Spanish. Elijah turned back around to face the sand mound in front of him, hanging his head in disappointment and guilt. He knew he shouldn't have asked, that she would get upset. But he couldn't help it. Everything else was always so boring. The monkey bars were the one thing he could do by himself, and didn't have to wait on anyone else to play with him. He could just play alone. And it was fun. Unlike the stupid sandbox.

Elijah dejectedly reached for the shovel buried in the sandbox, and set about to filling the bucket off to the side. If his Mommy wanted him to make a castle, he guessed he could make a castle. Before long Elijah had three blocky towers standing up in front of him, and he was so busy trying to connect them together that he didn't notice the screaming coming his way as the group of boys from earlier ran through the sandbox in a game of chase, toppling over all of Elijah's work. Elijah stared in shock as the multiple feet trampled the sand again and again. But...he had worked so hard on it...and it had been for his Mom.

Infuriated that none of the other boys had even apologized, Elijah jumped up with a bucket full of sand and slung it at one of them. The boys always had to ruin everything. They already made him play by himself, and now they took that away as well. Crying in anger, he kept grabbing handfuls of sand and chucking it at them. He hated them. Just as Elijah heard his mother start to tell him to stop from behind him, the boy he had thrown the bucket of sand at in the first place came up from out of nowhere, running at him and shoving him back into the sandbox where he tripped over the sides of it, falling down in a heap. At this point his mother was no longer on the bench with her book, but was immediately at Elijah's side helping him sit up and brushing the sand that was stuck to the tears on his face. She didn't even pay any attention to the boys standing there watching them, because she was too busy checking Elijah's arm and trying to soothe his crying.

"Oh, shut it, ya dirty Chicano," Elijah heard the other boy say right before he felt his mother stiffen. "You shouldn't even exist. How dare you throw sand at us like you have the right. I could get you in so much trouble for that, you know? It's not like anyone cares what happens to you, anyway, so you can stop crying. I bet that's why your Daddy's always drunk and angry all the time. Why you're always in old clothing, and you never get anything new to play with like the rest of us. You're Daddy doesn't even care about you. He's ashamed of you - the abomination that you are - just like the rest of us. You-"

"That's enough," his mother growled through her teeth at them. Standing up, holding Elijah on her hip, she took a step toward them, and all but the boy who had spoken stepped back in unconscious fear. The boy, Hank, just sneered at his mother though.

"You can't do anything," he laughed. "You put one finger on me, and my mom will have the cops called on you almost as fast as you can make an enchilada."

"Well, then," his mother said calmly, "I suggest you boys had better get going then, hadn't you? Wouldn't want to test that theory of yours, especially considering I don't know how to make an enchilada. Might take a while, and you might not be happy with the outcome."

The boy stopped for a second, trying to work out what she had said, before glaring at her and stomping away in a huff. His mother looked down at Elijah, who had continued to cry throughout this exchange, not sure what was going on, and unconsciously rocked her son against her. She went to sit on the bench with Elijah, shushing him in an effort to comfort him while putting his head on her shoulder and rubbing his back.

"Ma-mom-my?" Elijah gasped through tears.

"Yes, Elías, baby, what is it?" his mother asked sadly.

"What did that mean? What he called me. What did it mean?" Elijah cried, while taking his head of his mother's shoulder to look at her. He brought his left arm up to wipe his eyes and nose on his sleeve.

His mother sighed defeatedly. "They called you a Chicano, Elías. And...it's not a nice name. You are not a Chicano, not that there is anything wrong with being one. I want to make that perfectly clear," she said.

Elijah nodded to show her he had heard her, and waited for her to keep going.

Shaking her head, his mother continued, saying, "Chicano is a term that some people use for Latinos, and it's not usually meant in a good manner, Elías. You know how your Mommy is from Spain, hmm?"

Elijah nodded. "Well, that means I'm not from this country, and so when people see me they automatically see a foreigner. A lot of people see my skin tone, and hear me speak Spanish, and think I'm Latino. I'm not, but they don't bother to ask. The way people in this country treat Latinos is deplorable anyway. But that's another story. The point, Elías, is that I want you to know that you are not what they say you are, okay? You are not a Chicano. You're white...just, maybe not as "white" as them. You got a little color to your skin, which is a good thing, if you ask me," she laughed, pinching his cheek. "You're going to grow up into a heartbreaker, I can already tell."

Elijah tried to pull his cheek away from his mom, pretending that he didn't enjoy the attention. He was still puzzling over the word "foreigner." It sounded weird. Why anyone would make a word like that, he would never understand. Realizing something, he looked back up at his mom, and said, "But Mommy, what's a Latino?"

Closing her eyes and laughing softly, his mother then looked down at him, and said, "I forgot you wouldn't know that. Don't worry about it, Elías. That type of distinction isn't really important. People are just people. The rest doesn't matter. Sadly, you'll find out what Latino means, and why people use words like "Chicano" someday from the world. But not today. And not from me."

Elijah stayed up on his mother's lap for a time, talking and playing games with her, while she would occasionally sneak her hands toward his tummy to tickle him. After a while, Elijah looked over to the toppled mess in the sand box, frowning. He had been so far along, building the castle. Maybe his Mom would let them stay a little longer and he could try building it again. Just as Elijah was considering getting up and going back to the sandbox, his mother called his attention back.

" Elías," she said hesitantly. Elijah looked back around at her, curious as to what she had to say. "About what else that boy said...about your father. It...it wasn't true, Elías. Never think that, alright? That's not...It's...Your father has some problems. That is true, but...they are his problems. Not yours. And your father loves you, okay? He could never be ashamed of you. You're perfect, Elías. And I know he doesn't always show it, but he loves you. I promise...I..."

"It's okay, Mommy, you don't have to-" he started.

"Yes, I do, Elías. Because no one deserves to be told that no one cares about them. It's just not true. You know that, right?" she asked.

Elijah paused, twisting his bottom lip between his teeth, before he decided all he could really say was...

"...yes."

It wasn't really a lie, so he couldn't get into trouble. He knew his Mommy loved him. Whether or not his Daddy did, he still wasn't sure. If he did, then he loved him a lot different than his Mommy. Daddy always yelled at him, and he always got in trouble for things that Mommy didn't care about him doing. And Daddy never took him to the park, or did anything with him really. It just confused him.

Elijah's mother poked him on the nose, breaking him out of his thoughts. "Why don't you go play in the sand some more. We still have a little time left, and I saw you looking that way earlier," she smiled.

Elijah nodded, hopping off her lap and running for the sandbox. He looked disgustingly down at the mess. There was no hope in saving it. He would have to start over. He sighed, and used his foot to level the sand before sitting back down with the bucket and shovel to start again. When he was a tower and a half in, Elijah felt someone come up behind him, and a shadow fell over that side of the sandbox.

Flinching away, Elijah waited to be hit or shoved again, thinking it was the boy, Hank, from earlier. After a sigh came from behind him, Elijah heard movement, and a foot came into view followed by a body that slowly sank down into the sand next to him.

It was the boy from the monkey bars. The one Elijah had watched jealously from behind the merry-go-round and the sand towers he had built. Why he was over here when he could be on the bars still, Elijah couldn't figure out. Didn't this boy know how much he wished he could be on them himself?

The boy looked at him, meeting Elijah's dark brown eyes with his own bright green ones, before silently picking up another bucket and filling it with sand. He didn't say anything to him, just packed the sand in, flipped it over next to the other towers, and started over again. Elijah sat there puzzled. Why was he helping him? Looking around, he saw the other kids still playing in groups together, none of them noticing him or the boy. But that wasn't unusual. No one noticed him...except the boy. Why was he playing with him? When he could play with any other kid on the playground.

Elijah just sat there and fidgeted some more, not sure what to do. Was he supposed to just pretend that this was normal? Was he supposed to talk to the boy? Elijah was so unsure of himself.

"Are you just going to sit there and play with your shoelaces all day, kid?" the boy asked amused. "I thought sand-castle building could be a joint activity, but if you'd rather do it yourself, I can leave." He looked over at Elijah, suppressing a smile.

"N-n-no, no don't do that--" Elijah blurted out, shaking his head back and forth rapidly.

"Well, alright then," he chuckled, leaning forward with the next bucket of sand to add more to the castle.

Biting his lip, Elijah reached for the shovel that was now on the other side of the boy. Before he could get to it, the boy picked it up and passed it to him without looking up. When Elijah didn't do anything, he looked over at him, smiling softly and presenting him with the shovel again.

"You can take the shovel, kid. I'm not going to bite. If anything, I'd be more scared of the spider you're sitting next to right now, than me," he said, exasperatingly.

"WHAT? Where, what..." Elijah screamed, flipping around searching the sand around him, trying to catch his breath to calm down. When he looked back around at the boy, he saw him silently shaking with laughter.

"That's - that's not funny!" Elijah shouted at him crossly. "You're mean!" He sat back in his spot, crossing his arms and glaring at the castle.

"Aww, come on, now. I was just trying to get you to calm down. You were practically freaking yourself out. I saw all the thoughts you were speeding through. Plain as day one your face. You know, you're not very good at hiding that. No pokerface, whatsoever. You should probably work on that," he said seriously.

"What?" Elijah asked, confused again.

"Nothing, kid," the boy said, laughing once more.

Why did the boy find everything so funny? Elijah wasn't even telling any jokes. It didn't make any sense. Maybe he just wasn't that smart. Not that Elijah was going to point this out to the boy. His Mommy had always taught him to keep thoughts like that to himself. If you don't have anything nice to say Elías, don't say anything at all. The number of times he had gotten in trouble for not doing that, were far too many.

"So..." the boy said, after several more minutes had passed. "Are you going to tell me your name or continue to ignore me? I mean, I'm fine either way, but I'm sure your mother would be a lot more comfortable if I wasn't just some stranger helping you build a sand castle. That would be a little awkward."

Silence.

"Right..." the boy said. "Well, I'm Joseph, since one of us has to cross the line first, and it apparently isn't going to be you, kid."

"Stop calling me that! I'm not a kid!" Elijah pouted. "I'm four and a half!"

"Oh, alright then," Joseph grinned. "You're right. That's much too old for me to be calling you a kid. I can't exactly call you anything else without a name though."

"Elijah," he said, grudgingly.

"Elijah, huh?" Joseph said, thoughtfully. "Mind if I call you Eli?"

Elijah shook his head. "Good, you can call me Joe then. Most people do. I can't think of a person besides my mother who actually still calls me Joseph," he said, once again grinning. Did the boy ever stop? Was he ever unhappy? Elijah had basically glared at Joe for this entire conversation, but it didn't faze him. His Mom usually told him he scared people when he gave them that look. Why wasn't it working on Joe?

"Elijah's a good name, though," he continued on the with the stilted conversation. " You'll go far with that name. You can be anything you want to be. More so than say with a name like Hank," he finished, looking slyly over at Elijah.

Elijah looked up, meeting Joe's eyes once more, wondering what he was talking about. Joe must have sensed his question, because he chuckled to himself once more before turning himself in the sand to face Elijah.

"I saw what happened earlier, Eli," he spoke. "I'm sorry about that by the way. When I chased them off from me, I didn't realize that they would eventually go over to you. You didn't deserve that."

"It wasn't a big deal," Elijah said, softly.

"Yes, it was. Don't pretend it wasn't. No one likes a bully. And what he said was over the line. Someday, someone is going to stand up to him. And he'll know how it feels. Until then, just keep your chin tucked, and never let him sneak up on you, okay?" Joe spoke over Elijah.

The rest of the afternoon seemed to pass in a flash, Elijah and Joe continuing in a comfortable silence. At one point they both had to stand up and move to the other side of the sandbox as their castle now took up the entire middle.

"Why haven't you been at the playground before?" Elijah finally asked. "I come here every day."

"Really?" Joe asked, looking over at Elijah. "Well, I wish I could do that. Summer just started Eli; I've had school before now. And my Pa doesn't need me in the shop yet. So here I am."

"You work with your Pa?" Elijah asked, curiously.

"Yeah, Eli," Joe chuckled. "If my Pa let me slack during the summer at fifteen, I'd be worried. He;d have to be sick or something."

"You're fiteen!" Elijah crowed. "That's so old!"

"Thanks, Eli," Joe tilted his head smiling. "Being called old be a four-year-old is new."

"I'm four and a half," Elijah reminded. "But...what are you doing at the playground if you're fifteen? Why aren't you with your friends?"

"Well, I'm hurt," Joseph said, in an affected voice. "I thought we were friends. But if I'm mistaken, I can gladly take my sand castle building skills elsewhere." He made to stand up.

"No, that's not what I meant," Elijah said, giggling. "I just meant-"

"I know what you meant," Joe interrupted, pleased that he had gotten Elijah to laugh. "I don't know. I've just always liked the playgrounds. I can pretend I'm little again. But this time around I get to swing on the monkey bars however I want without my Mom yelling at me."

"Your Mom yelled at you too!" Elijah asked excited.

"Of course!" Joe said. "It's what they're supposed to do. They wouldn't be mothers if they didn't stop us from doing that. Is that how you got the plaster?"

"Yes," Elijah sighed, depressed again as he looked down at it.

"I like it. Makes you look tough. Plus the color is totally groovy," Joe winked at him.

Elijah visibly brightened. If someone like Joe thought it was groovy, then Elijah did too. He had always secretly liked the pink, but he wasn't supposed to.

"I'm glad you're finally smiling again," Joe commented. "The face you were giving me earlier was incredibly sad."

"Sad!" Elijah exclaimed. "I was angry with you!"

"It sure didn't look like anger. You looked like someone had kicked your puppy!" Joe said between laughs.

Elijah went back to pouting again while trying to glare at Joe.

"Oh, see!" Joe pointed. "There's the sad look again. If that's supposed to be anger you need to work on it more. Go back to the smiles they suit you better."

"No!"

"Hmm, we'll see about that," he said, as he suddenly lunged across the sandbox attacking Elijah's stomach with his hands. Joe continued tickling Elijah, stealing huge peals of laughter from the boy, until Elijah was gasping for breath and begging him to stop.

"Ok, ok!" he chocked. "I give up! I'll smile! Please, stop, it hurts!"

Joe sat back grinning, watching while Elijah picked himself up trying to brush the sand off of his shirt. Looking up, Joe saw Elijah's mother, Karina, looking over the top of her book, smiling faintly at them. Joe waved jauntily, and she smiled wider nodding at him.

"You have sand all over you," Elijah said disgusted, bringing Joe's attention back to him.

"Oh, do I?" Joe asked sarcastically. "Well, look at that, now you do too," he finished, taking a handful of sand and playfully throwing sand at the front of Elijah's shirt.

"I just wiped that off!" he frowned, brushing it off again.

Joe started grinning mischievously, slowly reaching behind him for more sand when Elijah wasn't looking. His hand flashed out of nowhere, throwing the sand Elijah's front again. Elijah stopped, looking down at his shirt in shock.

"That's it!" he yelled. "I'm gonna get you!"

"Only if you can catch me," Joe said quickly, before darting off in a game of chase.

Joe ran all out, attempting to wear Elijah out for the day, finally taking pity on him and letting him catch him twice. As Elijah was still running around happily, Joe was getting ready to start his next turn when a soft jingle music was head coming down the street.

Joe looked over at Elijah excitedly to see if he had heard it, and the look of longing on his face showed that he had.

"Come on, Eli!" he blurted. "Let's go get ice cream."

"No, it's fine," Elijah said, calmly. "I don't have any money for it."

"Eli," Joe frowned at him. "I'll pay. It's not a big deal. Come on!"

He grabbed Elijah's hand, running at a slower pace for him toward the street.

Elijah broke away giggling, turning the mad dash into a race.

Joe played along with him, pretending to work extremely hard at keeping up with Elijah.

Elijah picked up a burst of speed, leaping out into the road without looking across the street to see if it was safe.

A horn blast was heard throughout the park.

Joe looked up to see a tank truck screeching it's brakes, barreling down on Elijah, and dove into the street toward him.

Joe grabbed Elijah under the armpits, hoisting up and throwing him for the grass on the other side of the road, only feeling bad about his arm for a second. Before Joe could get his footing under him to run for the other side as well, the tanker hit him, knocking his head against the steel front frame, and throwing him to the side.

He hit the ground with a thud, lying motionless.

By the time the tank truck had passed and stopped on the side of the road, Karina had dashed over to her son, picking up off the ground to check for injuries. With the exception of a busted lips and some scrapes, he was fine. She tried to get him to stay away from the other side of the road, but Elijah insisted on seeing Joseph.

After finally getting around his mother, he made a run for the sidewalk were Joe had been thrown. Elijah stumbled up to him, not expecting to see anything but a smiling Joe.

Instead he saw Joseph limply lying on the ground with blood seeping from his head, and his head bent at an odd angle. Elijah stood there, staring, ignoring his mother's attempts to get his attention and pry him away from the sidewalk.

Time passed, and sirens were heard coming down the road. Elijah remembered people in white uniforms coming in between him and Joe, blocking his view. And when they were finally moving away again, Joe had disappeared. They had taken Joe with them, but Elijah turned around to watch them, not seeing Joe anywhere. All he saw was a black bag that they placed in the back of the car. That didn't make any sense. They couldn't just make Joe disappear. Didn't they know he needed help?

Elijah looked back at the sidewalk to make sure the blood he had seen had been in his imagination. His Mommy always told him he had too much of that. But no, the blood was still there. So then where did Joe go?

"Mommy?" Elijah said, not realizing until that moment he was crying.

"Y-y-yes, Elías?" she said, softly.

"What did they do with Joe? He just disappeared. Is he gonna be alright?" he asked one question after another.

Karina started sobbing openly at this point not able to hold it together even for her son's sake. How did she explain this Elías?

"They took Joe with them," she finally said. "That's why he's not here anymore."

"Yeah, but is he gonna be okay?" Elijah asked again, this time frantically, when he noticed his Mom had not answered that question.

Closing her eyes briefly, she opened them up again and plastered on a huge smile.

"Of course, he is Elías," she said brightly. "He'll be just fine. They'll took good care of him. He's in the right place now."

As Karina packed up her things, and picked Elijah up, heading for the car, Elijah realized something.

Something that he would have rather not known.

That was the first time his mother had lied to him.

The first time Elijah had seen right through what she said.

She had knowingly lied to him.

Which meant Joe wasn't going to be fine.

He was gone.

Elijah's first friend.

Was gone.