The little boy who took a long time waving goodbye

I didn’t see him when he came in: must have come in a slim shadow next to the walking thighs of parents and holding tightly to an adult hand. I know they were in the front room: I could hear the murmuring and the calling out that families do.

‘Where are you, Jack?’

‘Where did Jack go?’

‘Here.’

Later, they all came to the counter with a handful of children’s books and a DK Star Wars Reader, book 4, level 5. They paid. They all turned in a soft cotton group for the door.

That was when the child looked back at me and waved. I said, ‘Goodbye. Enjoy your books.’

And he continued to wave in that way children do, the hand going rapidly from side to side at face level, both eyes intensely on me, not looking where they’re going, bumping against mum, banging against the door, still looking back and making the same hand movement and the eyes on me, eyes like polished citrine expanding into dark gold.

‘Come on Jack, watch the door.’ A final soft little bump, the little fluttering hand, and then they were gone.

Sculpture by Clay Enoch