|
In New England August feels thick. Leaves turn
dark on their branches. Lazy and late, summer becomes
heavy. Then without warning the earth tilts slightly
and summer weakens. This year the season is putting
up a hard fight but it will yield, it always does.
Kids feel the arrival of fall in the marrow of
their bones. They wash their faces and struggle
with the unfamiliarity of socks. It takes time
for kids to resign themselves to the inevitable.
Finally it is the squealing of the school bus brakes
that drives the point home, summer is over.
The girl down the street is turning six today,
the twenty seventh day of August. She announced
her birthday yesterday from beneath my clothesline.
Her toothless grin peeked out from under my white
wet sheet. The child’s hands left their mark.
Then off she skipped giggling her way across my
yard leaving me no other choice but laughter.
I have seen this child out early in the morning
dancing in her nightdress. I’ve watched her
chase fireflies in the dark. Charming, and yet
I have wondered to whom, if anyone, she belongs.
Still, this free spirit graces my world, picking
my flowers, racing around corners, teasing the
dog or angelically cradling a frog in the palm
of her hands.
Once I caught her holding my cat hostage in her
doll carriage. Mittens was dressed as if it were
about to be christened. The poor animal, clearly
pushed beyond its emotional limit scratched, his
way to escape. “I hate that cat!” she
yelped as it leaped to freedom. The doll bonnet
still dangling from its neck, its’ dress
pulled up in the back, exposing its frantic tail.
That day I wanted to ask her what she had learned
about cats. I refrained, knowing she needed a band
aid more then she needed a lecture.
We have a long history, this girl and me. Last
fall she picked “the green beans” off
my magnolia tree, bit my only home grown tomato
while it was still attached to the vine. Ah and
yes, she stuffed my toilet full of paper until
it overflowed, blaming her imaginary friend, Alex.
There wasn’t much laughing going on that
day. The amount of water on the bathroom floor
put a temporary damper on our relationship. Smart
girl that she is, she stayed away until things
blew over and dried.
In the winter she sat on my porch munching on
icicles until her front tooth fell out, allowing
her yet another excuse to get my attention. She
pressed her nose against the glass in my door,
fogging it with her mouth. Then, as if that wasn’t
enough, she proceeded to write her name with her
tongue. When I read it backwards it was the same
as it read forward, “anna.” It was
then that I started calling her Anna Banana. I
meant it as a term of endearment, yet she took
offense. She looked me dead in the eye, stomped
her foot and yelled something that sounded very
much like an obscenity.
It doesn’t stop me though. The name Anna
Banana gets her attention every time. My sense
of humor is beginning to grow on her. I can tell
because the foot stomping tantrums have ceased.
Anyway, today is Anna’s sixth birthday.
When summer finally breaks, our lives will change.
Anna will no longer be making morning trips to
my yard. Instead she will ride a school bus with
the other kids. Her time will become scheduled.
The world will turn on its axle just enough to
chill the air, sending fireflies away for a very
long time.
I wonder how the free spirit of Anna will adapt
to school and the lessons of body stillness and
compliance.
I doubt that she is aware yet that she is too
thin, too fat, too dark or too light. I am sure
that by the second day of school some smart- ass
kid will let her know which pigeon- hole of deficiency
suits her best. I want to be there to whisper, “Anna,
don’t forget to not listen to the jealous
ones.”
May she hold enough resilience to keep her heart
safe from thoughtless acts and deliberate cruelty?
Perhaps she will be spared the heartbreak of people
who claim to know what’s good for her, especially
the deceitful ones who lie just because they can
deceive someone so trusting as she.
May she have teachers of integrity, who assist
her in finding her strengths, true friends who
are generous with their caring. Kind ones who share
their peanut butter sandwiches, red M & M’s
and who write love to Anna on every note, every
valentine and, someday, in her year book when she
graduates from high school.
Friends she can count on to be there to share
her happiness and comfort her when she is sad.
Let Anna learn to be this kind of friend.
May she never experience the sting of rejection
or the feeling of being pushed aside in favor of
another. “Anna, remember, you are more then
good enough. “
I hope kids share their toys at recess, save her
a seat in the cafeteria and welcome Anna to school
so that she will feel loved enough to reach out
to others. May her life be filled with teachers
that smile because they love children and still
enjoy their profession – the kind of folks
that cry every June when it is time to say goodbye.
O, and let her be picked first at least once each
year.
For Anna’s sixth birthday I bought her a
kaleidoscope to symbolize the changes in her life.
I know her innocent untamed ways will yield as
she catches hold of the excitement of learning.
Today I will sit on the porch swing with Anna.
We will take our time as she opens her gift. Together
we will look at the patterns of colored glass.
We will enjoy this, her sixth birthday with a cup
of strawberry ice-cream. Let it’s sweetness
blend with the scent of purple columbine. The breeze
is already laced with hints cool autumn.
Early next week Anna Banana, like most kids, will
climb the steps of a big yellow school bus and
be driven away.
Dedicated to my son Mike & granddaughter Michelle – I
am so proud and I love you both. XOXO. Remember
always, it is love that will change the world,
one person at a time. Congratulations to the class
of 2007!
|
