Every morning Lydia and I walk to school. I drove her one time, when we were almost to the grounds and she slipped in the mud. We had to go home and change, she was then late, so we drove. Some mornings the walk is a bustle with others. Amy and her 4 out of 5 children, pushing the youngest in a stroller, Brenyick and Rayanna, sometimes Mom, my friend Lina. Late guy and his son, who if I see them walking the same direction, I know we are late, they are usually walking up the path after the bell has rung. I always find myself trying to visualize what their mornings are like, that they are so consistently late, and the Dad, while never smiling, never seems angry or rushed. And then there is Magda with her Dad Adam, the fencing instructor at OES, and their dog Oscar, and sometimes Mom, Brynn.
There are sometimes others, but these are mainly the people we see on our daily commute. This morning, we were alone. As I was coming back alone, I saw in the distance, late guy and son starting up the hill.
Lydia and I exit our bottom level/partially underground apartment, we head up the hill to the top of the complex and cross through part of Ed's school campus where we enter the woods. It's much less woodsy right now of course, with most of the trees naked. Ayla has a chance to do her business in a private setting. We pass through OES' ropes course, through a corner of their parking lot and then onto Montclair's playground.
For the first many weeks I was unable to bring Ayla, as Lydia had me walking her all the way onto the blacktop and waiting with her there until the bell rang. When she would look at me sadly, make sure I had given her "kissing hands" ( I kiss each palm so she has them to press to her face all day as needed) and would trudge through the door getting lost in the pushing crowd.
As you know, these were tough weeks for us both.
Today, 4 months in, Ayla and I left her by the big tree on the field and her newly 9 year old self walked off carrying her class project, backpack dwarfing her little self. I kept looking back to make sure she knew I was still with her. But that big kid just kept going, facing forward. Sigh.
The project was due today. I found the notice from her teacher, that was sent home last Friday, Monday afternoon in her backpack. This was our first taste of rushing to get a project done, letting her do it and have to go to bed on time. We were pretty stressed, but it got finished and she was in bed relatively on time. You may not know this, but Jupiter has 63 moons. I helped by straightening 63 paper clips and shoving 63 marshmallows on the ends.
There are sometimes others, but these are mainly the people we see on our daily commute. This morning, we were alone. As I was coming back alone, I saw in the distance, late guy and son starting up the hill.
Lydia and I exit our bottom level/partially underground apartment, we head up the hill to the top of the complex and cross through part of Ed's school campus where we enter the woods. It's much less woodsy right now of course, with most of the trees naked. Ayla has a chance to do her business in a private setting. We pass through OES' ropes course, through a corner of their parking lot and then onto Montclair's playground.
For the first many weeks I was unable to bring Ayla, as Lydia had me walking her all the way onto the blacktop and waiting with her there until the bell rang. When she would look at me sadly, make sure I had given her "kissing hands" ( I kiss each palm so she has them to press to her face all day as needed) and would trudge through the door getting lost in the pushing crowd.
As you know, these were tough weeks for us both.
Today, 4 months in, Ayla and I left her by the big tree on the field and her newly 9 year old self walked off carrying her class project, backpack dwarfing her little self. I kept looking back to make sure she knew I was still with her. But that big kid just kept going, facing forward. Sigh.
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