Are we letting wolves raise our children?
I walk inside the mall before the shops open and exchange “Good Morning” with a few regular walkers.Twice last week, when I said “Good Morning” to two young adults, they looked stunned and said, “Oh, okay.” They reminded me of a young man who sat next to me on a flight to Hawai’i.
Raised by Wolves
A young man buckles himself next to me,
Connected to wires and earbuds.
He grunts to my Hello without meeting my eyes.
Soon we are flying over the Pacific
Nary a word between our proximity.
An hour into flight, breakfast trays appear.
He leans over his mushroom cheese crepes,
Stabs his fork into one, lifts the crepe to his mouth,
Takes a bite and drops the rest of the crepe to his plate.
He was raised by wolves, this much I know.
He picks up a piece of cantaloupe with his fingers
Takes a bite, moves his face over his tray and drops
The size too large for a bite back to his plate.
His utensils, ignored like the napkin on his tray.
My teacher mode kicks in.
Learn by observing, child raised by wolves.
Learn by observing.
Miss Manners and Emily Post at his service
I use each silverware and my napkin, too.
Attempt again for conversation over breakfast.
“Let me guess,” I begin.
No, No, I didn’t ask,” Were you raised by wolves?”
Miss Manners was still around.
“You’re a college student returning home for summer break.”
He flashes his first smile. He finished his junior year in college,
Flying home with hopes of finding a summer job.
I drink my cup of decaf coffee, wish him well.
I was wrong, not raised by wolves, perhaps
By Fast Foods finger foods and his SmartPhone.
©Frances H Kakugawa
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