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The quiet time
Dec. 25th, 2006 09:40 amThe table is set and all the food that can be prepared or prepped has been done. In a few hours I will be all-a-twirl with last minute tasks. People will arrive and the day will cascade from one moment to the next in a blink of an eye. But for now, I sit here with coffee and a simple breakfast, remembering family and friends, past and present; those that have been in my live forever and others who flitted through, but left an impression.
In 7th grade a classmate borrowed a quarter. She never paid it back. It is not the lost of the quarter that left the impression, but who she was. She was the first (and only) person I knew who lived in the orphanage. My town had only one and in the land of flat (Illinois), it sat on a hill in the aptly named "Hillcrest" neighborhood. I stared at this building every time we went by. It was gothic in design and made of large granite stones. I pestered my mother with question after question about how kids ended up there. Regardless of the answer, I always had another "why" waiting, asked in innocence, over and over, the way only a child can. I really wanted to know. This usually ended in frustration when my mother closed the conversation with "I don't know, that's just the way it is." I stopped then, until the next time we drove by.
When at last I knew someone who lived there, I could not ask. We were not friends. My only real interaction with her was the borrowing of the quarter. And I was older and better socialized; enough to know my questions would be rude. Mostly what I knew of her was from gossip. She was a good fighter and didn't mind getting in trouble. She missed a lot of school and the rumors flew to explain these absents. She was in jail because she robbed someone. She was in jail because she killed someone. She was pregnant. She ran away. Never did we hear something like a long lost family member found her and took her to live with them. No, the rumors were always ill fated.
Sitting in my warm home, with an abundance of food, secure in the love of my family and friends, I think of this young girl, a woman now. Does she have a family? Is she celebrating the day in similar comfort? Does she think back on those days? If we met today, what would we talk about?
To all reading this, may your day be filled with peace, warmth, nourishment and love - today and every day.
In 7th grade a classmate borrowed a quarter. She never paid it back. It is not the lost of the quarter that left the impression, but who she was. She was the first (and only) person I knew who lived in the orphanage. My town had only one and in the land of flat (Illinois), it sat on a hill in the aptly named "Hillcrest" neighborhood. I stared at this building every time we went by. It was gothic in design and made of large granite stones. I pestered my mother with question after question about how kids ended up there. Regardless of the answer, I always had another "why" waiting, asked in innocence, over and over, the way only a child can. I really wanted to know. This usually ended in frustration when my mother closed the conversation with "I don't know, that's just the way it is." I stopped then, until the next time we drove by.
When at last I knew someone who lived there, I could not ask. We were not friends. My only real interaction with her was the borrowing of the quarter. And I was older and better socialized; enough to know my questions would be rude. Mostly what I knew of her was from gossip. She was a good fighter and didn't mind getting in trouble. She missed a lot of school and the rumors flew to explain these absents. She was in jail because she robbed someone. She was in jail because she killed someone. She was pregnant. She ran away. Never did we hear something like a long lost family member found her and took her to live with them. No, the rumors were always ill fated.
Sitting in my warm home, with an abundance of food, secure in the love of my family and friends, I think of this young girl, a woman now. Does she have a family? Is she celebrating the day in similar comfort? Does she think back on those days? If we met today, what would we talk about?
To all reading this, may your day be filled with peace, warmth, nourishment and love - today and every day.
