14October2025
Today I tried to make sense of the strange little things that keep fluttering around my mind, especially during the quiet hour at the nursery. I keep recalling the orangetabby kitten I first saw on a walk with Mum. She had organised a game of Duck, Duck, Goose and the tiny creature never got close enough to be noticed. The kitten was ginger, just like the one I call Milo, though I can never tell whether kittens really have eyelashes.
Mum always said the sun had kissed my cheek that morning. Shed lean in and plant a gentle kiss on me, then she was gone. Since her death, no one has kissed me the way she did. Dad is always hurried, and Grandmother Agnes seems to keep her distance for reasons I dont understand. I wonder, if the sun really did kiss me, does that make me the suns own child? And if a sunkiss can reach a boy, could it have touched Milo too? Do kittens even have eyelashes?
When Miss Evelyn tucked my blanket tighter, she whispered, Lenny, why arent you asleep? I obeyed and closed my eyes, but sleep slipped away. From the staffroom I could hear her talking to someone about staffing shortages, wages, and the impossibility of juggling two groups with just one assistant. How long will this go on? she muttered. Wholl work for such pay? A voice replied, At least Annas gone nowshe was a nightmare with the children. I shivered at the memory of Anna, the old nursery nurse who used to shout at us when we refused the lumpy porridge. She once pressed a spoon so hard on my tongue that I gagged and spat it onto the table. The terror that night made Miss Evelyn wash my face and change my clothes, while she scolded Anna for her harshness. Soon after, a complaint must have been made and Anna never returned.
Later, on the evening walk, I thought I saw Milos tail flicker behind the shrubbery near the gazebo, but it vanished before I could catch a glimpse. Then Dad appeared. Since Mums death he hardly speaks to me, barely notices me, and simply drops me off after nursery and sends me to my room to play. I overheard Grandmothers angry outburst at Dad one afternoon: Simon, Im telling you for the hundredth time youre raising a child that isnt yours. He doesnt look like you! Dad retorted, He resembles Nadine. Grandmother snapped, He barely looks like her. Why not get a paternity test? Its easier than caring for a strangers kid. Their voices were always sharp, and I learned to tune them out.
This morning a new nursery nurse arrived. She was nothing like Annasoftspoken, never raised her voice, and coaxed us to eat without forcing. I watched her closely, spoon hanging halfway from my mouth. Hello, whats your name? she asked. Lenny, I replied. Im Irene Clarke. Dont you like the lumpy porridge? I muttered, I dont. She smiled, I hate those lumps too, Lenny. You can leave them on your plate; later well see who has the most. I began hunting for lumps on my own plate, only to discover there were hardly any. While I was searching, Id already swallowed most of the porridge. Irene praised me, calling me a great boy. No one had ever praised me like that before, and it lifted my spirits.
Since then Ive started to enjoy nursery even more. Irene helps Miss Evelyn wherever she can, and the children have taken to her quickly. One quiethour, Miss Evelyn asked Irene to stay with the kids while she slipped into the headmistresss office. The children whispered among themselves, and I still couldnt fall asleep.
Lenny, why arent you sleeping? Irene stroked my hair gently.
Do you know my mum is in heaven? I whispered, my throat catching.
She seemed taken aback, then softened. No, I didnt know, she said.
And the sun kissed me too, I added, eyes wide.
I noticed that, she smiled. Do kittens have eyelashes?
Probably, I answered, I wondered why I asked.
I told her everything: the ginger kitten darting through the bushes, the belief that the sun had kissed it too, and my hope that Milo might be my brother. I wanted a brother, even if it was a cat, because without Mum no one kisses me anymore.
Do kittens kiss children? Irene asked, her voice barely a tremor.
She brushed my wild, reddish hair once more and nodded. Yes, Lenny, kittens can kiss. Their tongues are a bit rough, though.
Later, Miss Evelyn confided in Irene about my background: my mother had been in a childrens home and died recently; my stepgrandmother never accepted my stepmother; my father kept being told I wasnt his. She said I was a bright, wellkept boy who had stopped smiling, though he used to be as radiant as the sun.
A few weeks later I didnt show up at nursery. A nasty virus was sweeping through the town, and I stayed home, feverish. When I finally returned, Miss Evelyn announced, Lenny wont be coming back. She meant that my father had arranged for me to be placed in foster care. Irene was stunned. How can that be? she asked. The DNA test showed Dad isnt my real father. After five years of raising me, they decided to send me to a childrens home. The words sounded like a blur.
Walking home that evening, I imagined the ginger kitten with its nonexistent eyelashes. A sudden rustle near the nursery fence sent a bright orange ball rolling at my feet. I caught itit was a kitten, scruffy but unmistakably ginger, the one Id been dreaming about. Irene, still dazed, scooped it up, noting that kittens really dont have eyelashes.
When my stepbrother, Alex, came home from work later that night, the kitten leapt at him fearlessly. Weve got a new member, he said, laughing. Will it ruin the furniture? He looked at Irene, who seemed relieved to have something to care for.
The next months were a whirlwind of paperwork, adoption forms, and visits to social workers. Thankfully our flat was spacious and Alexs salary was decent, so we could keep the kitten. Irene kept working at the nursery, her heart set on helping children because she had no kids of her own. Alexs parents, living up north, kept calling, urging us to bring the boy back to them, but we had already built a new life.
Now, two years later, Im getting ready to start Year1 at the local primary school. Mum, Dad, both grandparents, and my little sister will all be there to see me off. And at home, the ginger kittenwhom Ive named Milopurrs on my pillow every night. It feels like the sun has finally settled on me, in a way Mum never could.
