she pauses just outside the door to the gym. quietly scanning the noisy thumping music filled crowd for her friend. i give her a little push and she pushes back against my palm with a strength that i haven't felt from her before.
i urge her through the doorway and manuever around her so that i can make my way over to the sidelines to stand with a friend and watch the chaos of the elementary school dance. stella catches a glimpse of the twin girls and their red headed friend. she walks in their direction ... obviously nervous about standing out in a crowd as standing alone.
when did this happen? when did she become so observant of what others might possibly think about her? the bubbly red-head bounces and giggles. happy to be here and joyful and dancing ... while stella glances sideways and watches her classmates ... constantly thinking. i can see the worry in her eyes.
she's always been that way. thinking.
late at night ... middle of the night ... not sleeping more than 20 minutes at a time. thinking. she would awaken in the wee hours of the night ... and ask about so and so's busdrivers name. she wondered the meaning of a ( and a ) ... and what they were used for and why they were found on a poster of the body's muscles and bones that hung on her wall at the age of 3. and then why are they on a calculator? and a computer? she was constantly thinking thoughts of this or that. why or how. when or who.
her friend arrived ... stella was at her side almost immediately. her tense shoulders dropped and her smile appeared. she felt safe. not alone. not outside wanting in ...
the envelope arrived in our mailbox last weekend. the acceptance into a school that is so what we have always
stella has put on the brave face. she's not exactly pleased that we are moving her to a new school, with potentially no one that she knows besides her sister
she stands at the door. quietly gazing through the crowd. looking for her friend. not wanting to brave the music and dancing on her own.
my heart tells me that this is the right decision ... but i wish it could be easier for her.