Sunday, August 30, 2009
I dropped my small daughter off at a building full of people that I have never met, with little more than a bag lunch and a few .art supplies. My heart and mind were completely confounded as she slid smoothly into the line of other small children, face forward, eyes intent. Her strides toward a building she had barely set her foot in, were strong and long, keeping in pace with all the others. She was all business. Her last words to me still hung in the air like a dense fog. Her words revealed more of her compassionate, kind, loving heart than I could stand. "Mommy, I'm going to bring home lots of pictures. I'm going to draw a picture of each kid in my class and I will tell you all of their names. They will be my friends, so I'll tell you who they are.....OK, Mommy. I'll have fun. I love you." Although, we had a busy day, my thoughts were with her and what she might be doing at any given moment. How was she being treated and how was she treating others? Was she being shy or bold? Was she going to be able to open her new thermos all by herself? And if not, would she be brave enough to ask for help? From 2-3:00 was one of the longest hours of my life. My husband and I piled into the car with Bean and Bunny. I tried to keep it cool, but ended up in an argument with the hubby when he jumped out of the car to get her and expected me to sit in the car and wait EVEN LONGER with our other girls while he just ran in. After a few short moments, he relented and opted to stand outside of the car with the camera poised. I stepped into the small cafeteria, my eyes scanned the crowd of children, parents and teachers hoping to catch a glimpse of Birdie talking with a new friend or staring back at me with wide eyes and a smile that couldn't fit her face. Instead, I had to lean around a group of adults who obviously knew each other and were having a fine time recollecting, to finally see her. There she sat on that cool metal bench that ran along the picnic style lunch tables, all by herself. She was looking at her shoes or her hands and she looked like the tiniest little child ever made. It took her a moment to see me and it was perfect. Her eyes were bright and smiling while her grin lit up the entire room. "It was a great day, Mama! Where are Daddy, Bean and Bunny? I want to show them my new bag." I survived, I survived all of it, and even more importantly, she thrived and can't wait until Monday.