As I enter my mouth drops open. There's Clark straining to put the tractor on to the blocks.

Amazing. And scary. His strength isn't what scares me, it's what his strength could result in. He could accidently hurt someone, or destroy some property, or just be discovered as abnormal and be taken from me.

Jonathan tells me I'm the strongest person he knows. He must not know very many people then. I shake and I fear every day, every second, that someone will take my son. I'm not a brave person. Surely I'm not the only mother who feels this, but I'm the only mother with a son like this.

Clark sets the tractor down and his shoulders droop in an exhale from his hard work. Jonathan pats his back.

"Good job, Clark. I'm so proud." He scruffs up my little boy's already messy hair. "Alright son, now go get ready for school."
"Yes dad!"

Clark super speeds back towards the house. I continue to stand there. I love seeing Clark and Jonathan together. It actually took Jonathan a long time to finally take the responsibility of being Clark's father, and claiming Clark as his son. But something else is on my mind.

"Do you think it confuses him?"
"What?"
"How we encourage him to use his abilities at home, but forbid him to use them any where else."

Jonathan doesn't answer right away. I can hear him tinkering away underneath the tractor.

"It'll take time, but he'll learn why eventually."
"What if he needs to know why now, Jonathan?"

More silent tinkering.

I answer my own question. "Then I'll let him know, that his strength and his speed are special. He can use them at home because we're used to his gifts. But that others might not understand if he decided to share his powers with them. They might...they might..."

"Take him away from us. That always seems to set him straight."

"I don't want to tell him that anymore. It feels like we're threatening him."

"We're just telling the truth Martha. We're just being honest. He deserves to know the consequences."

"Still, I don't like it. Sometimes parents have to say no, even if we'd rather say yes. Although, in Clark's case, it seems like we say no more often than not. I mean he's never allowed to go to friend's houses, or play often with other kids, or be himself around other people."

I sigh in frustration and look at my watch. 7:30. I better make sure Clark's getting ready for school and not continuing the saga of the purple ninja turtle.

Clark and I walk about half a mile, up to our next door neighbor's driveway to pick up Lana. We do it every morning and the three of us wait at the bus stop.

Her aunt Nell always seems so busy. But I'm happy to do it. I adore Lana. If I didn't know Clark, I'd swear she was the alien child, she's too cute and too polite. Clark and Lana are best friends. It's the cutest friendship I've ever seen.

I have this secret fantasy that they'll always be best friends, fall in love, get married, and give me many, many grandchildren. That would be, that would be perfect. Perfect. But it's just a fantasy, life never comes that easily packaged.

Clark runs up her steps excitedly as always and knocks on the door. Almost immediately, Lana opens it.

"Hey Kimberly!" He says.
"What's going on Tommy?" She giggles. I chuckle at their early morning traditions, pretending to be the pink and green power rangers.

"Nell! Clark and his Mom are here!"

I hear a voice respond.
"Okay, have a good day at school, sweetheart!"

Nell never comes to the door to wish Lana goodbye - or to even check if it is really us who Lana's leaving with. Maybe she gives her a hug goodbye each morning before we come, and watches us from a window. Maybe not. Is it any of my business? I don't know.

All I do know is that Lana spends more time at our farm than she does at her own house. I used to babysit her a lot when the Langs were still alive.

Nell asked me to help her out and babysit Lana soon after the meteor shower, when she was still recuperating from the fact that she was now the sole guardian of a three year old girl.

I almost said no, because we had Clark, but Lana and Nell both really needed someone too, so reluctantly I agreed.

I had kept them in separate rooms for a few months, because, well, I hate to admit it, but I was afraid Clark would accidently hurt Lana with his strength. Now I know that was wrong, but for some reason I still won't let Clark play with other children.

What is this gate I keep fencing him in? It surely can't be helping him learn to be around other children. Lana had to be the one to break through the confines constantly surrounding him.

It happened one day, when I heard giggling coming from our living room where Clark always stayed. I was surprised to find Lana there, playing with Clark and laughing. I almost ran up to them, but then noticed the way Clark was looking at her. They had been introduced, but Clark had never before played with another child.

He wasn't laughing, but I could see the smile in his eyes. He watched Lana with a slow powerful gaze that seemed to observe everything she did. He mimicked her often, and that would make her laugh. It sounded so good. I hadn't heard Lana laugh like that in a long time.

And so they were never separated again. It's funny how one little change could make that big of an affect on them. Lana began to smile more often, and laugh, which warmed my heart. While Clark began talking. He had said a few words here and there, but never really complete sentences. And now it was "Lana this, and Lana that." And it thrilled me.

My heart still breaks for that girl, since her parents perished. Sweet, dear, Lana. No one should be alone so young. In that sense she and Clark are very similar. I wonder if they notice the similarities. I'm sure they do.