Once a month, a truck filled with donations would pull up to the front office. Being a self-centered 13 year old with aspirations of being a cool kid, I was certain to grab any piece of clothing that had OP written on it. I would snatch the OP corduroy short shorts and those oddly popular Ocean Pacific T-shirts.
One of the perks of being the son of the secretary at an orphanage was being the first person to rummage through donations intended for orphans.
This place, my home for one year, was called Sunshine Acres. The perk my mom received as their secretary was a small salary and a humble house right there on campus. It was me and my mother living adjacent to the dorms that housed kids aged 5 through 17; all of whom had some horrible background.
This was just a few years before I met you.
You know how you are sitting there with your significant other for the first time showing them all your baby and childhood photo albums and suddenly you come across three random childhood pictures that you completely forgot about? Well, that one year at Sunshine Acres was those three pictures.
It was a remarkable year in my life as far as character development goes and simply learning that my self-perceived lonely childhood was nothing compared to what other people face. Those orphans, those kids, all of them; they welcomed me with open arms and treated me like family.
I suppose I could go into a long winded tour with you and tell you about the times I played Marco Polo with them in the swimming pool there on the grounds of Sunshine Acres. I probably could tell you how I ate dinner with all of them at the cafeteria every night and they would be praising God for the wonderful brussel sprouts that sat on their plate while I complained and made faces at the mere presence of those leafy green vegetables. I could tell you how some of the kids would ask me daily how school was and asked me what I wanted to be when I grow up. I could tell you how significant I felt just because these orphaned kids showed a real interest in me and my life. I could go into a lot of detail at how children who grow up in extreme circumstances often emerge with the utmost character and courage. Those kids, those orphans; all of them... prepared me for you and others like you who came into my life after you left.
But like those three random pictures that show up in your childhood photo album out of the blue, my one year of living at Sunshine Acres is better left unspoken about. The experiences and lessons I garnered at that awkward year of my life is better exhibited through action instead of words.
It's funny but in my childhood photo albums there are way too many pictures of me wearing those super short corduroy OP shorts and posing like I was some pre-adolescent James Dean. I have viewed those pictures a thousand of times and it wasn't until tonight that I remembered how I greedily stole them from the donation truck during that year I lived at Sunshine Acres.
Vanity is a funny thing. You probably don't know this but on those rare occasions I knew I was going to see you at church or at some church event, I stood in front of the mirror for 30 minutes making sure my Levi 501 button fly jeans looked good on me. I really wanted your approval. I wanted you to like me like I liked you.
I suppose you made me feel important just like those orphans once did.
I am glad you didn't know me during my OP corduroy short shorts days. But I am glad that I knew you during your big bangs and denim skirts days.
I've got so many stories I will never get to share with you and I am sure you've got plenty more than me.
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