Lunch Box

I'm going to start writing more again, I decided. Because I feel better when I write than when I don't, walking around, writing in my head. Plus my brain is getting totally full and there are hardly any spots left to scribble upon. I have about ten posts that I need to get out. But first, this one. Because it's the most recent.

Little A and I were waiting for her bus this morning. It's still hard for me, you know? Because I want to pick her up and take her back to the house and lay on the couch and read books to her all day. Because I want to make up for all the exasperated sighs that I wasted on her when she'd interrupt me for the 1,000th time while I was working.

We were standing there and I smiled down at her and asked her if she was going to sit with her new friend, B. She's been all excited about B, telling even the cashier at the store, "Yep, and I wide the bus and I sits wif my friend. Her name is B and she's my new friend."

A cloud washed across the skies of her eyes and she looked down.

"What's up, baby?" I asked as I knelt down by her.

"B don't wike me no more and she sayed 'dat I can't sit wif her no more."

"Why is that?"

'"Cause she wanted my lunch box and I sayed she couldn't have it and 'den she sayeddat I's not her friend and now she sits wif someone else and I sits by myself."

I put on my brightest smile, "Come on, I'll drive you to school! It'll be fun!"

"No, Ma. I wikes widing 'da bus. I's just sad when I see B 'cause she was my friend and now she ain't anymore. But I still wikes 'da bus."

We then turned our topic to the dogs and singing and then the bus came and I watched her little head walk down the aisle, get into a seat by herself, slide to the window and wave to me.

I waved back my most enthusiastic wave and watched the bus roll away, turned and let out a sob that surprised even me.

The mother in me wanted to chase down the bus, tell B that no, she couldn't have Little A's lunch box and how dare she! How dare she be so cruel at such a young age! I wanted to call her mom and tell her what B had said to Little A--tell her, it's too soon, they are too young--please, teach her love.

But I didn't. This is the part that I have dreaded. The part where I cannot control her environment, her surroundings, who she encounters. But I can hopefully impact how she treats those around her.

I hope, that if a day were to come that she should pass a "B" on the street and know just by looking into B's eyes that she needed Little A's lunchbox, that Little A would hand it over and never think twice. I will continue to try to raise her that way, despite my raging heart and despite all of my protective instincts.

So that means putting her on that bus, and a lot of other buses, over and over again and trusting that she'll do the right thing, no matter what the world throws at her, no matter if she'll have to sit alone.

And this is hard, people. So painfully hard.