If this visit to Found Baby's musings is your first, welcome! Found Baby writes about her everyday adventures, about how she feels, thinks, and the challenges she faces living in a world so obsessed with beauty and perfection. As she adjusts to life out of the ground, she can't help but recall bits and pieces of her life before she was buried, and those memories are heartbreaking. It might help if you start from her first post back in March 2010, and read backwards to learn the story about how she was found. If you are simply reading the current post, may her story of survival and hope touch at least one of you. She believes there are no coincidences, and you landing on her blog isn't one either.
Welcome, no masks needed...........Found Baby.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

"Albert, Your Breath is Kicking!"

When Albert first saw me he got so scared every bit of color in his faced drained completely out. I didn't feel so bad though because his breath stunk so bad he scared a few more hairs off my head so our friendship got off to a great start. That just seems that way it goes sometimes with people who are different I guess, all getting judged by how we look or smell instead of who we are. We both humbly apologized and stood there for a while looking at one another with embarrassment. 

A few awkward moments crept by and we realized we both had a bit in common. He seemed to be missing his entire bottom half and I, well, I seemed to be missing most of my clothes, not to mention half my hair, and if either one of us could have bent over we would have rolled on the floor laughing at our pitiful selves. It felt good laughing again, I mean really laughing, because it had been quite a long time since I had done any of that, or even felt like it for that matter. 

I had missed having someone like me, I mean, someone who knew what it was like to be different, to talk to , so Albert and I had a nice long chat together. We spent the next few hours getting acquainted and he shared with me a few memories he had when he felt....different. Albert told me when he was a little boy, his head seemed to be bigger than most kids his age, and he was made fun of. He also told me that he had a hard time learning to talk and read because he had so many ideas and thoughts running around in his head. He laughs about it now, people thinking he was a bit slow at first. He even called it, "The Ignoramus First Assumption Theory," which I found to be as fabulous as his idea that imagination is more important than knowledge. 

Albert asked me about my face and what happened to me. Tears welled up in my eyes and I just hung my head. Before I could speak he began whistling the most beautiful tune, and it made me realize just how much I had missed hearing music, especially lullabies. I think he knew I wasn't ready to talk about it yet and he just wanted to put my mind at ease for a while. I thanked him, thanked him for the talk, the laughs, and for the song he left with me. Later that night, after all was quite and the cicada's had given up the ghost for the night I remembered the lullaby my angel face sang to me just before saying her prayers. I remembered how it felt to be loved and sang to, and I missed her.


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