I'm not sure what I am counting to but counting helps. I like to count the cracks in the sidewalk, sort and count my M&M's by color and number, discard all even number of things, I like odd numbers. I guess I am funny that way. Monday was my first day back to work in a really long time. On my drive there I was struck with the memory of my first day of kindergarten. I had on new shoes, a new dress with apples on it and a bag bigger than I should be carrying. Today my mother did not dress me but I was wearing new shoes for the first time and my feet hurt. My Mother always had new shoes for me; first day of school, vacation, holidays, you name it. BUT here is the clincher, I could not wear those shoes till the day of the event. I even remember a wedding that I had to wait to get inside the church to put those new white patent leather Mary Jane's on (I was 4).
I felt horrible inside. Like that little girl without a clue as to who was going to be in her class. Fast forward to 1985. We moved all the way across the United States 6 weeks before 8th grade is over and I had to be "that" girl. Then again in 9th, 10th, 11th and 12th grade. My parents had a time of it deciding were to plant the family plantation there for awhile.
As I walked into the building I saw a reflection of myself and paused, I did not recognize that woman in the window. I fully expected to see the little girl. I called #17 and told her I did not want to go in. She encouraged me to go, like I did for her 3 years ago when we moved to TX. I wonder if it was hard for her to realize my vulnerability at that moment and we were switching roles. I hope not, I am not ready for that yet. So here I sit tonight in my big girl pants and bid farewell to the little girl inside and say hello mama in window!
2 years ago