Your passion will find you in the strangest places

Much of my family came from middle of nowhere Tennessee.  It was one of those towns between the hollers that has been all but abandoned at this point.

We were driving farther and farther from Nashville to see my dad's cousin, Sally*.  It was going to be another fun-filled day of trekking around cemeteries to explore our family history...I couldn't wait.

Typically, Sally and her significant other, Jim, have at least two grandchildren staying with them at any time, but today they had an additional boy. 

He was about 3-years-old and was staying with them while his grandparents, who were in the process of becoming his legal guardians, were out of the country.

After hours of walking around cemeteries with the sun beating down on us, we headed to a diner to eat.  As if   we did not already attract enough attention (the entire town knew we didn't belong), the little boy running around the restaurant added to the chaos.

My mom and Sally were in their own world, discussing the rambunctious child. That's when I heard it...

"We have trouble talking to him. His grandparents usually speak Arabic to him, so he understands that better than English."  My family immediately looked at me.

"Say something to him!" they coaxed.

I didn't know what to say. He was running around the restaurant, who says he wouldn't have ignored me anyway.

"Ya Isaac!" That was it. I yelled his name in a way that you get someone's attention in Arabic. But it worked.

My "little brother" and me as we talked.

He stopped dead in his tracks and just turned to look at me. Everyone was silent.

Now he knew my secret, and I knew his.

His cousin Annie carried him over to me, but he hid in her shoulder.

"Hello," I said to him in Arabic. "How are you?"

No response.

"I really like you."  That was it! He giggled. He understood and he responded.

"What did you say?!" Everyone wanted to know what just happened in our secret language.

"I told him I liked him."

For the next hour and a half we played together and talked.  I explained to him who my family was and as he repeated the words back I knew he understood.  He obeyed when I asked him to hand me something. And he tested me on my colors, only to move on once I got it correct.

Everyone prepared to leave.

"How do you say nice to meet you?" my brother asked.

"Tasharufna.**"

He knew what I said. It was almost the time where he had to leave me and it was clear that he was not happy. 

As I started to walk away from our table, I felt someone grab my hand.  There he was, determined to leave with the person who he thought at this point had to be his sister. 

We went to our separate cars and he was unresponsive to everyone saying goodbye.

"Ma-salaama!" I yelled to him.

"Oh bye!!" He perked right up as he waved bye to the girl who spoke his language.

*Names have been changed.

**My spelling in transliteration is not the best, I apologize.

What are the odds of this happening?  I only hope I get to see this precious boy again someday.

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