Years ago, when I was working as a psychologist at a children's institution in England, a boy showed up in the waiting room. It was David.
David's face was pale, and he stared at his feet1. He had lost his father as a baby and when David turned 13, his mother was killed in a car accident. He was very depressed, 2to talk to others.
The first two times we met, David didn't say a word. As he was about to leave after the second visit, I put my hand on his shoulder. He didn't shrink back, 3he didn't look at me either.
"Come back next week, " I 4 a bit. Then I said, "I know it hurts."
He came, and I5we play a game of chess. He nodded. After that we played chess every Wednesday afternoon in complete6and without making any eye 7.It's not easy to cheat in chess, but I admit that I made sure David 8 once or twice.
It seemed as if he enjoyed my 9, though he never looked at me. Perhaps he10that I respected his suffering. Until some months later, suddenly, he looked up at me, "It's your 11, " he said. After that day, David started 12. Since then he really started to live his own life.
Maybe I gave David13.And David showed me how one—without any words—can 14out to another person. All it takes is a hug, a 15to cry on, a friendly touch, a sympathetic nature and an ear that listens.
