“THIS IS WHERE I MATTER.”
It wrecked me.
He later told me, “Mom’s always tired or mad. I try not to be extra.” That word—extra—hit hard. I realized I’d been trying to fix him instead of hearing him.
So we shifted. I let him lead. He named animals, asked great questions, and even asked me, “Why do you live out here alone?” I told him the truth: peace and loneliness aren’t the same.
When his mom came to get him, Reuben whispered, “I don’t wanna go back.” I told him, “You’re not extra. You’re essential.”
Now, he visits monthly as my “Junior Farmhand.” That crooked sign still hangs in the shed—and reminds me daily that people don’t need fixing. They just need to feel seen.
Sometimes, it’s the quietest kids who teach us the loudest lessons.