The sun in Santa Cruz has no mercy. It works like an constant oven trying to dry out all the water of your body and this day was no different. I was walking the streets of Santa Cruz looking for street children hanging around the channels and parks of the city. I could feel the sweat down my spine, almost unbearable. It made me feel like taking a bath without really wanting to.
I was in a marked and right now looking for three boys about ten years old that left their home a few days ago. All I knew was that they were around somewhere in the marked. Somewhere between all the shops, people and cars.
After just a few minutes of walking the educadora say to me. “Look over there! Do you see the boy in the red T-shirt?” I turn around looking closely. It is not one of the boys we are looking for that I can see. He is older. Maybe about thirteen years old and I quickly find that I know this boy. I have both seen him and talked to him before and then I suddenly realize who he is. He is the boy who left the street. The one who said he wanted new close and a place to sleep. This is the boy we took to a home just two weeks ago!
He actually went back to the street! I could feel the sadness rise in my head. I had really hoped that this boy would stay but he didn’t. I reminded myself of the work I was doing, but I couldn’t help to cry a little inside myself. It hurt to see him like this again.
We continued our search for the boys through the marked but they were not to be found. The educadora told me that there was no use looking more. I argued for the opposite but she still said no. We will look more tomorrow, she said. I stopped arguing because I know that I still have a lot to learn. It takes patience. Sometimes more than I want it to take.
I turned my face back home convincing myself over and over again that I will find them some time in the future. Maybe tomorrow, I convinced myself. Maybe tomorrow...