He waits for me every day beside the No Parking sign in front of the condos across the street from the school. Sometimes singing to himself, he swings round and round the pole. Like a dancer spinning, at the beginning of each rotation his eyes snap back to the parking lot where my car sits. His sweet, happy face never fails to bring a smile to my face as I check on him each time I walk another student out to the car rider line.

He waits for me every day.

Sometimes he comes to school crying. “I don’t want to come here today,” he might say when I ask him why. “Me either, let’s go home,” I say sympathetically as I hug him to my side. It breaks my heart when he draws in the deep shuddery breath kids do when they are trying so hard to keep it together. Once in a while I get a watery smile.

He waits for me every day.

He used to have stomach aches a lot. Now he tells me when his mom didn’t feed him any breakfast. He knows where I keep the Pop Tarts I bring for the hungry ones. He never ever complains about the flavor I give him neither does he ever show a preference. He simply says thank you and returns to his seat to eat.

He waits for me every day.

He has the eyes and hands of an artist. He uses lines and shapes to create patterns and designs with a skill far beyond that of other six year olds. I often catch him contemplating the lines of our concrete block walls or the pattern of sunlight peeking through the window blinds. “You are a wonderful artist,” I tell him.

He waits for me every day.

We have spent two school years together he and I. It’s hard to keep up when no one has taught you the names of the colors you see every day or how to count or even how to write just the first letter of your name. I know that he has grandparents that would like to be a bigger part of his life. I know that he is the oldest of five children being raised by his single mother. I know that he is anxious to please adults. I know that he loves to talk to his friends. He doesn’t confide in adults easily so I worry that the teachers to come won’t know what I know.

He waits for me every day.

I wait until no other cars are in sight and I pull out of the parking lot slowly stopping across from him. I roll my window down and we yell goodbye to each other. I tell him that I love him and that I’ll see him in the morning. When it is cold or raining I tell him to hurry home.

He waits for me every day.