There I was battling with a young man who endured and was introduced to nothing short of neglect, physical abuse, fear and unkindness in his first years of life, seven to date. A peep was all I was asking for.

I cajoled and encouraged, fully aware that I must not pounce but step with agility. I sought permission to understand and step into his world, enquiring about his favourite games, characters and hobbies. I mimicked his body language, lowering myself and propping my developed body to his level, on my knees if need be and always aiming to land my eyes on his next portal of interest so as I may surprise, indulge or maybe even impress him. We never touched but I silently vowed to him that my hand shall be there for when help was in need and I inherently believe he eventually came to acknowledge that.

My daily interactions are based around building bridges, burning uncertainties and instilling confidence. My repertoire cannot flower without one of the main basic human instincts and needs, that which is trust. It is indeed a burden to the disloyal but a connection of unspoken souls, a bond forged in its early days by a son feeding gleefully on his mother’s breast. It may be lost just as quick as it was gained, a confirmation to its precious status and rarer occurrence. But reader, should others trust you?

The hardest barriers to melt are those of a child for they are shrewd and can sniff out honesty from deception. Their untouched and unsoiled innocence make them apt at seeing through people point blank or turning a blind eye when doubt is smelt. Your fathers would have seduced your mothers into unwilling chaos by building an element of trust, your five prayers would have been performed once trust in your Lord was valued and your business partners would have sealed deals once trust had been stamped on the hot red ink. When you trust or permit yourself to be trusted, you are opening a relationship of reliance, a system where authenticity is established but also setting conditions on the basis of that trust and consequences of it breaking.

It took my patient three appointments before he allowed me to enter into his life. Slowly but surely and most importantly at his pace, this young man was making progress in letting a stranger invade into his personal space and check an intimate part of his substance. As he opened up and allowed me to intermittently scale away days of plaque stagnating on his virgin, newly erupted and unfazed incisors and molars, nothing could have prepared me more for what was about to follow.

As I pronounced my closing last words and we rehearsed in unison lessons gained from that session, he lifted his arm on my shoulder, tapping initially to gauge my attention then embraced me, interlocking small against large with such fever and faith.

Dedicated to the brave young ginger boy I had the pleasure of treating and the first to make me melt in his arms.

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