It was blissful joy. We’d busted out of quarantine and were on the beach!  The evening wind blew off the ocean into our mask-free faces. The graduate boys had just leveled up as “Conquerors” and were celebrating their accomplishment and their newly granted freedoms that come with making it to the last stage of the program.     

Tuesday is “buy one get one free” at Dominos (yes, we have Dominos!). We found some benches on the deserted boardwalk.  Ten extra large pizzas and 8 liters of coke were disappearing quickly when out of the corner of my eye I saw a big, muscular homeless person approaching.  Now what?  Besides being intimidated by his size, there’s the added worry of COVID. 

I was surprised to hear a childlike and familiar voice say, “Hello, Aunt.”  Recognition came slowly. It was Caio! He was wrapped in a blanket, carrying a plastic container with food in it.  When the boys recognized him, they jumped on him and hugged him. So much for social distancing. They shared their food but after a while, lured by their own newfound freedom, the rest of the boys took a walk on the boardwalk, leaving Caio to talk with me.

“Where’d you get that blanket and food?”  He nodded toward one of the elegant ocean front high rise buildings across the street.  “I asked over there,” he said.    I pondered for a second how these very wealthy people felt about stepping over Caio in the morning while he slept in front of their swanky apartment.  But I also smiled at the kindness of someone giving him a nice blanket and a Tupperware container with some homemade food. 

Even I had mixed emotions encountering this big, dirty, menacing street person. I would have never known he was 15 and a very gentle, struggling soul. The boys wanted to bring him back with us. We discussed our options. We had caravanned in small cars so there was no room to social distance from him. I offered to pick him up in the morning.  “Aunt, I will be high before you get here and won’t want to go,” he said matter-of-factly. Exasperated with my naiveté he went on, “Do you think I want to be on the streets, aunt?  I hate it, but I don’t know how to stop.” 

We called for a staff member to bring another vehicle and brought him back to the ranch.  Less than 12 hours later he had run away again, leaving his warm blanket behind.  The addiction was too much. 

We so much want a special rehab program for kids, before they get older and recovery gets even more difficult. Although we have the space, there is political resistance to the kind of mandatory rehab program we need.  We feel so helpless, and it is painful for everybody involved.  To me there is a time restraint to this prayer: I want Caio to come back before he turns 18.  Lord, I want him clean.

It was blissful joy. We’d busted out of quarantine and were on the beach!  The evening wind blew off the ocean into our mask-free faces. The graduate boys had just leveled up as “Conquerors” and were celebrating their accomplishment and their newly granted freedoms that come with making it to the last stage of the program.