The Engineer.(Kevin Hughes) He was one of the few people I ever met that I considered a hero. I mean what would you call someone who fought thru pain, suffering, broken bones, broken dreams, horrible medical treatments - and still managed to smile, laugh, and put you at ease.

I had known him since we were ten years old. That first time I saw him hobble up to the swing set in the park, both arms in metal crutches that looked like they would fit a large doll, he just smiled at all of us playing on the swings. I got off my swing and went over to him:

“You want to swing? Mine is empty now?”

“Oh… I can’t swing.”

“Why not?”

He tapped the two crutches together. They made a clanging sound and his point.

“Well, I can push you after you hop on the swing.”

He smiled a big smile. One that screamed thank you.

“I would love that, but my hands might break holding the chains.”

“What?!”

“My bones are not strong. I could get hurt. But thanks…it would have been fun.”

“Do they break because you hold things? Or when things hit them?”

He smiled again. It was pretty clear to me at ten years old, he had to give this speech often.

“Well, if I grip anything too hard, I can break a bone. But I can hold onto things like my crutches (showing me the handles) because they put these fancy smart foam things around the metal. As long as I don’t press too hard, my bones are okay.”

I took one of his crutches - and he leaned on the other one. I looked it over. I squeezed the stuff on the handles. I had him hold out one of his hands- and I ran my fingers over his skin. Even I could feel how thin his bones were under the soft cover of his skin.

“Hmmm. Today is Saturday. Wednesday is Teachers Day at my School- so I have that day off. What about you? Do you go to St. Mary’s too?”

He smiled again. I loved that smile- not an ounce of self pity, remorse, or sadness in it. He just seemed so happy to just be alive- it made you smile too.

“I don’t go to school. If the bullies push me, or trip me, something always breaks. So my Mom and Dad home school me. (He pointed his crutch towards a picnic table where two adults were sitting chatting.) They bring me to the park so I can see kids playing. I like to watch kids playing. It looks like fun.”

I could see the Adults were watching us closely- so I waved. When I did, I knew immediately where he got that smile from. Both the man and the woman lit up like Roman Candles when they saw I was talking with their son, and waved over at them. They waved back.

I turned back towards the kid- he was trembling, shaking, and sweating. Still smiling though.

“Could I have my crutch back, please. I can’t hold myself up much longer.”

I turned beat red, handed the crutch back to him in a hurry. He still didn’t look good, so I put one of my arms around him (I am pretty strong for my size) just for support and balance, I led him to the bench next to the swings. He took his back pack off and offered me some water. I made him drink first, then we shared his Oreos and some dried snapping peas. We talked for a while.

“Could you come to the Park on Wednesday? Maybe your Mom, or Dad could bring you around Noon?”

If you thought the kids smile was contagious, you should hear his laugh. It is delight in a bottle.

“Are you kidding me? If I told my Mom and Dad that a kid wanted me to come back to the park on Wednesday, they would both skip work to make it happen. (He blushed a little- looked me right in the eyes) I don’t have any friends.“

This time I turned red.

“Well, you do now. I am pretty good with building things. I am going to be an Engineer! (I said it with the pride it always made me feel. To build something and make it work- what could be better?)”

“I bet you will be a good one.”

“I will. Lots of school still to go though. But I make things all the time. I have these…these ideas (and I looked away so he wouldn’t see my face, or the tears burning down my cheeks), people think they are stupid, or silly. Lots of them…well…don’t work. Some of the kids say the stuff I make sucks. They don’t work right, or look right, or turn out right. But I think that is how you learn.”

I felt his hands turn my head to look at him. He was stronger than he looked but gentler than anyone I had ever met. Ever. His eyes were wide, his voice soft:

“I know all about failing. It took me six years to walk. But look at me now!”

He stood up and simply flowed into his crutches - I had to run to keep up with him. We ran for a hundred yards to the edge of the fence. I didn’t know anybody who could use crutches like that, to kind of skip-hop in long loping strides. It made me giggle. When we got to the fence, he stopped, spinned so he was facing me, and raised his crutches up like he had scored a goal.

I looked back at his parents on the picnic table. They looked way beyond concerned, almost fearful. Then they saw him raise his crutches. They both clapped, hooted (too far away to make out the words they said) I saw them “high five” each other, then hug, then sit back down on the picnic table.

He was winded but still glowing when I looked back at him. He had a triumphant smile plastered on his face. Sweat was beaded just under his red hair.

“My parents hate when I do that. If I trip or fall- it means a broken bone for sure. I used to fall a lot. Thanks for running with me. I…I…I never had anyone to run with.

“You do now.”

I will never forget that smile. It lit up my heart. So did the water that seeped out of the corner of both his eyes. I wiped those tears off with my thumb. He let me.

“Thanks.”

We started to walk back towards his Parents. I asked him if he could be back at the Park on Wednesday. He said sure, but why?

“Because I have an idea. You’ll see.”

And I smiled.

*****

I was sitting on the swing set at the Park at Noon on Wednesday. The Park wasn’t crowded- even though school was out for the day. Most of the kids Mom’s didn’t have the day off, so they were shunted off to Grandma’s house for the day. That was fine with me. I think the kid and I would be better off without anyone watching.

I was surprised to see both his Mom and Dad get out of the car, wave at me, and take up their usual post on the picnic table. The kid hobbled down towards me- he had a big brown bag swinging from his left crutch.

“Hey!”

“Hey! What’s in the bag?”

“My Mom made us lunch- she wasn’t sure what you liked. So I have like four kinds of sandwiches in the bag. (He laughed) They are my four favorites, I hope you like at least one of them.“

I laughed too.

“I will probably like all four of them. But we have work to do first!”

“Work?”

His face scrunched up, not in confusion, but simply in honest inquiry.

“Yes. Try these on.”

I handed him the gloves that I had made. I had taken a pair of garden gloves and made them a bit thicker. I put soft wire on the outsides. Soft enough that the wire would bend with just ordinary muscle pull. All you needed was about the same amount of strength that you would use to wrap your fingers around a cup of cocoa - and lift it.

On the inside of the palms, I had put memory foam from a pillow I cut up, covered it with duck tape so it could bend with the shape of the chains. I thought it might work. I had ruined five pairs of gloves before I got these to work. Luckily, my Dad loves my ideas. He bought me a pack of ten work gloves to use for my experiments. And soldering wire (too soft), copper wire (too stiff) and finally a reel of Aluminum craft wire- perfect.

The kid put them both on. I admit, they looked like catcher’s mitts on his hands, but they fit. He flexed his hands when I told him to make a fist.

“Did that hurt?”

“No. What are these for?”

He looked at his gloved hands like you might look at a bird coming out of a cocoon instead of a butterfly. With amazement.

“For the swing! Come on, lets try them out.”

There is that smile of his again. This time it was filled with hope.

“You think they will work?”

“Dunno, but if they do, well they do. If they don’t. We will find out why!”

He laughed. He forgot to take them off when he reached down to hold his crutches- a test of them I hadn’t thought of. I didn’t say anything out loud. I did watch as he curled both his gloved fists around the handles of his crutches- he didn’t even notice they were still on. That was a good sign.

I took his crutches- while he settled in the seat. I leaned them up against the supports. I showed him how to hold the chains so he could use his weight to swing. I gave him a tiny push from the back. That was all he needed.

I saw his parents running full out from the picnic table towards the swings. They were shouting something and scared as all bejeezus. I froze. Then I heard his feet swing near my head. I turned to look.

“Jesus, slow down! You are going to get cherry bumps, and we didn’t pad the seat.”

I turned back to get yelled at by his parents. But they weren’t looking at me. They were locked with their arms around each other. Both of them were crying so hard I thought they would need a mop. That smile he had on his face when I first met him was echoed on both of theirs.

I hopped on the swing next to the kid with the crutches, bunched up my legs and launched into the air, catching up to his side in about six swings. We just kept swinging. His parents just sat down on the grass and watched. I saw his arms were giving out, so I jumped off my swing, ran over to his swing and slowed him down. When his swing stopped, I pulled him into my arms and swung him in a circle. Both of us chortling and squealing like stuck pigs.

“They work!”

“I know, I know!”

“You are an Engineer for sure!”

I stopped and looked at him. I couldn’t breathe. Someone had called me an Engineer…and meant it. Even at Ten years of age, that made me puff up with pride. He added to the pleasure by leaning up against me whispering in my ear words I will never forget - ever:

“You will have to carry me to my crutches. I wore myself out. But first, can I kiss you?”

I whispered back:

“Sure!”

Well it was my favorite kiss - ever. Sure he missed half my mouth and caught part of one nostril. I didn’t do so well either, as I left a little spit on the side of his chin. But it was our first kiss, we were only ten. When we heard his parents clapping - we started to laugh.

I carried him over to his crutches. His Mom and Dad stayed on the grass as we ate all four of the sandwiches. Turns out we both like the same things. Later in life I would design a suit for him that got rid of the crutches all together and the fear of falling and breaking something.

I called him: “My night in shining armor.”

He calls me: “His Engineer.”

Our kids roll their eyes when we do that in Public.

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