I asked him what he wanted
to drink, and there was silence.
I cleared my throat and tried to search for some recognition of my existence in his eyes.
Yet, to my displeasure they were glazed over and deserted of light…
except for the mute reflection of his Ipad screen.

Look Up! I wanted to shout, but simply stood smiling.

His (I can only assume to be...) brother, nudged him after what felt like an eternity.
“Jack!” His brother grunted and returned his attention to a text he was sending.

“Water.” The boy snarled in response, barely flickering his eyes away from the screen.
I returned with his drink and the boy said nothing.
I glanced at the seemingly perfect American family of four from a distance feeling sad.
Not for myself, but for that little boy.

He will never know the luxury of a completely uninterrupted and benign conversation over a family dinner;
He will only know the comfort of having a game at the tip of his fingers.

And he will never know what it feels like to be at a sleepover where they really did play games.
The kind that required patience and not always getting the monopoly piece you wanted.
**** that thimble.

He will never know the excitement of rushing home when the street lights came on.

Will he even know what running barefoot through the grass feels like?
Will he know the sadness of catching a lightning bug and having to let it go?

He will not know the comforts of reading a book with a flashlight underneath his covers while a thunderstorm passes.

He will never be able to write a girl a hand written letter
Knowing the way to her heart through the careful art of making words with beautiful loops, crossed T’s, and dotted I’s

Nor will he know the anxiety that emulates when hoping to receive one back.

No, he will never know the privileges of an extravagantly simplistic society.