The goose has always been attracted to beautiful things. A collector of the sparkly. The vibrant. If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, my sweet girl sees beauty everywhere. She is drawn to what others might see as broken, unlike, unsame, undesirable. In these, she finds beauty. Usually quiet among her peers, she speaks up for those who need an advocate. If not speak up for then suffer quietly for.
These years can be so difficult for a soft hearted person. She has done what most do, develop armor. To be both invisible and unapproachable because she can’t bear to be like them. She will be one who finds contentment later in her life. She will find her tribe in time. She will gain skills to be soft hearted in this world and be happy.
High school can be a difficult place when traversed from the fringe. Even harder when this is the place you choose to be. I know too well. I didn’t understand my peers. They didn’t say what they meant and I hadn’t honed the skill of interpretation yet. I too struggled with the choice to be alone because it was safe or enter the foray out of sheer boredom. As a result I didn’t do a lot of the pack activities that teenagers do. Senior week seemed like it a trip down Dante’s inferno. To be marooned without shelter from my peers. I chose, instead, small gatherings with people carefully selected. A place I am still most comfortable.
So I get her. This girl of mine. It seems like forever while you’re in it. Upon the distance of years in reflection, it doesn’t even seem that bad. I want to tell her that you will make it through. I have done. I want to tell mean girls that they are ugly little early peakers whose self esteem can only be bolstered by digesting the breathable air of those uninterested in falling under their spell. I want to protect her. I want her to know that she is beautiful. That she floats above those that she feels she must wade through every day. I want to be able to fast forward the movie of her life so she can see that this doesn’t matter. But just like I couldn’t mend her heart when we lost her Cookie Monster stuffed animal at two, I can’t minimize this hurt and stress. I must have faith that she will live through it and it will make her more empathetic. This time will foster her growth. High school will make her stronger. No one will remember her as she remembers herself anyway. They don’t know her. Most of them never will.