I stood in the doorway fighting back tears, trying to regain my composure. As I stood there watching the reunion, I realized the impact my job and my skills could make.
I have traded in my plane ticket for a job working in the nonprofit world. My adventures ended sooner than I would have liked but I enjoyed where I was able to go. It has been a while since the days of airport life but I’m glad I’ve grown up a little.
Doorways were opened and others were closed. It is pretty amazing to have gone from traveling the country to doing public relations for a nonprofit. I will never try to understand how things have worked out for me so far, but I have no complaints.
I work for a nonprofit known as Bryan’s House and have enjoyed what I do only slightly less than traveling (probably more but I have to stay office friendly). Bryan’s House from its beginnings was a care facility for children affected or infected by aids. It shifted its focus in 2006 to specialize in childcare for children with special needs.
I have gone from world traveler to desk job in downtown.
I’m lucky to have this job and do not regret for a second working but today helped me realize just how much Bryan’s House really means.
Bryan’s House started in 1988 after a Lydia Allen lost her son, Bryan, to HIV/AIDS; he was less than a year old. Lydia gave her son AIDS because during her first pregnancy was given a blood transfusion with infected blood.
Lydia made it her mission to help children affected or infected with this disease.
I had the fortune to meet and hear the story of an original resident of Bryan’s House. Unfortunately, the organization was a hospice care facility for children dying of the disease. They helped any kids with HIV/AIDS but in the beginning most of the children would die during care.
However, some made it.
I watched as he stood looking at his own portrait and the faces of the children treated during the early years at Bryan’s House. I could see the sadness in his eyes as he realized that out of eight, he was one of two left.
He stared at the ground not wanting anyone to notice the tears that were beginning to fill his eyes.
It has been fifteen years since he left Bryan’s House and he knew that was too long.
He began to tell me why he had to come to Bryan’s House, about how he was born a hemophiliac and one transfusion changed his life forever.
It was there I began to feel the knots in my stomach and the lump in my throat.
He talked about the fun he had and shared about how he got his sister in trouble by making a big mess during a balloon fight.
Now he is 28 years old with three children of his own, but here he was back to the boy unaware of what tomorrow would bring.
We walked around the facility and every step became harder and harder. Several of the teachers are the same from when he was living at Bryan’s House and their reunion was something words cannot explain.
As we walked into the classroom, he began to shake from nerves and the tears began to flow from his eyes. His old teacher ran to embrace him and kissed him on the cheek. Asking him questions about his life since leaving back in 1995.
I stood in the doorway fighting back tears…
James Buce 