There’s a little boy in my 2nd grader’s class, we’ll call him R. I think my son is jealous because he knows how much I adore R.

Whenever I’d walk into their classroom, I’d get hugs from most of the kids, but R would hang back and walk up after everyone else so he could give me an extra big hug.

R didn’t like the munchkins I’d bring to class. He said he doesn’t like sweets at all – which I told him was a little weird – and he laughed.

We became fast friends and I asked what he did like so I could bring them next time so he wouldn’t feel left out.

He likes oranges and fruit snacks, so I told him I’d get orange fruit snacks. I was annoyed that I could only find mixed fruit snacks, but he was happy anyway.

R told me Santa bought him a hoverboard for Christmas but he fell off. I warned him to be careful because I didn’t want him to break his head.

I told the class once that I loved going there and that it really made my day. I heard R say over everyone, “I love you too.”

Now that school is on-line only, I’ve been sad that I wasn’t able to give a real goodbye to that class; they really are a special group of kids.

And R … I might miss him the most. His sweet demeanor, his huge brown eyes, and his bright smile. He also has almost the exact same skin tone as Ahmaud Arbery.

I hate that my little friend is growing up in this messed up world that Ahmaud Arbery was just taken from.

The thought of R ever having to suffer the same fate as Arbery makes me sick to my stomach.

I can’t get the vision of him getting shot and falling to the ground out of my head.

I can’t stop thinking about how it happened on February 23rd and we didn’t learn about it until May 7th – and only because a video was released.

I can’t stop feeling broken-hearted over today, May 8th, being his 26th birthday.

I can’t stop imagining how his mother will feel this Sunday, Mother’s Day, when instead of being wrapped in a hug from her son, she’ll hear, “those men acted in self defense” or “they were within their rights” now that they’ve been arrested.

I don’t want R to be afraid to go for a run.

And most of all, I don’t want him to grow up not trusting white people.

We need to do better.