Had some thoughts come up a few days ago about a childhood acquaintance. He was not my friend, however he did go to the same church as I did, and played with me and my friends. He was a troubled kid. I look back at it now and think maybe he was abused or something. This is the first kid I ever heard use the word FUCK, in Sunday school of corse. This is the same kid I remember killing some kittens and hiding them under a trash can. This is also the first kid I remember dying at a young age. He must have been about seven years old, and Leukemia took him at an early age. For the best? Who knows. I remember seeing him in the coffin. He looked tired and asleep. I didn't feel sad, but more relieve than anything. Sounds mean but I'm glad this person wasn't a part of my life any longer. I can't imagine what he would have been like as a teenager or an adult.
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